


Miss A.Mills - Librarian

by HappyHappyReader



Series: A.Mills - Librarian [1]
Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Engagement, F/M, First Dates, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Ichabbie Holloween, IchabbieHolidays, Meeting the Parents, Pregnancy, Wedding Night, Weddings, ichabbievalentine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-01-26 03:02:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 60,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12547376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyHappyReader/pseuds/HappyHappyReader
Summary: Abbie is the Children's Librarian at Sleepy Hollow Library when Professor Ichabod Crane sees her and falls in love almost from first sight - they journey from meeting to marriage and beyond. This is fluffy smut. Enjoy!





	1. Miss A.Mills - Librarian

**Author's Note:**

> This little fic started in twitter or more truthfully when Nicole Beharie posted a picture of herself on Instagram wearing her glasses (huge, adorable, nerdy). One of the Sleepy Sistas on twitter said she looked like a Librarian and a fic plot was born. Don't ask me why this plot bunny has stuck with me, but here we are! Enjoy.

Ichabod was slowly being driven insane for want of a name. It should be simple really. He wandered into the Sleepy Hollow Library for reasons long forgotten and there she was - a stunning woman wearing the largest pair of glasses Ichabod had ever seen. She was very tiny. She was a little nerdy. She was positively adorable. He was unrepentantly besotted.

As she was the Children’s Librarian Ichabod had no reason to seek her out - to even ask her name, and frustratingly, the children and even her co-workers only referred to her simply as “Miss Mills.”

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t up for a challenge and Ichabod came to the little library over the next week determined.

“A…A…Ann?” Ichabod thinking, muttering and writing in his notebook, “Ann Mills?”

“Amy?”

“Amelia?”

“Andrea?”

“Analiese? Did she look like that was her name?” Ichabod thought, shaking his head no.

“Anita? Anita Mills…” Maybe.

“Allison?” That one was a real possibility.

“Amanda?” Ichabod hoped not, he once dated an Amanda who was a horror and he couldn’t imagine his pint-sized princess having the same name as that abhorrent woman…

Ichabod’s train of thought was interrupted by the unmistakeable feeling of being watched right before a shadow passed over his shoulder. He looked up just in time to see the exquisite Miss Mills take the seat opposite his. She rested her pixie chin on her delicate hand, smiling gently.

“If you wanted to know, all you had to do was ask.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Ann? Amy? Amelia? “

“Well, it seemed rude to just..ask” Ichabod said awkwardly, blushing a bit.

“Ask…” Miss Mills said, her deep brown eyes glowing with good humor.

“May I have the honor of knowing your given name, Miss Mills?”

She pushed her glasses up her nose, put out her hand for him to shake and said the one name that Ichabod suddenly knew would change his life forever.

“Abigail. You can call me Abbie.”


	2. Miss A.Mills  - Librarian - First Date with Professor Ichabod Crane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is an outtake inspired & encouraged by the dedicated group of ichabbie fanfic lovers on twitter. Mistakes are all my own - and I am sure there are plenty. Sorry in advance...
> 
> Oh and kudos to anyone who can spot the fan insertion! (Hint: she is a prolific and wonderful ichabbie fanfic writer and an all around wonderful person who completely deserves for Sandwich Bae to get off his ass)

Ichabod was a full thirty minutes early for, this, his first date with one Abigail Mills. They had agreed to meet at the local Games Cafe and while Ichabod knew he was being a bit silly arriving so early (and just sitting in his car watching the entrance) he did not want to take the chance of being late - not when it mattered.

It was only a week ago that he asked for the pleasure of Abbie’s company for an evening, details to be determined. He hand wrote a missive and left it on her desk with a small daisy tied around it. All Abbie had to do was call or text her agreement and thankfully she did…

“If you wanted to go out on a date, all you had to do was ask.” she said right as Ichabod answered his mobile phone.

“Well, I…I did not want to embarrass you by assuming anything.” Ichabod knew he was stammering but it could not be helped. She did that to him.

Quiet. A heavy silence.

“I liked the daisy…and that you took the time to hand write a note. Most men wouldn’t bother.”

“If I may be so bold, you are worth far more than a bother.” He also added, sensing that Abbie needed to hear it, “And I hope you will find I am not like most men.”

“Thank you.” Taking a deep breath, Abbie plunged in, “So, where do you want to go on this date?”

——————

Ichabod hurried out of his car when he saw Abbie confidently striding across the parking lot. She wore her hair loose and curly, tight black jeans, a v-neck grey t-shirt, a light weight red jacket and black heels. The heels would not help much, Ichabod thought. He was a good foot taller than Abbie no matter what shoes she wore.

“Abbie!” Ichabod watched Abbie stop and turn as he called to her. Her smile was just a touch nervous, but beautiful nevertheless.

“Oh, Hi Ichabod. Have you been here long?”

“No, not at all. Shall we go in and settle on our game for the evening?”

“I already know I want to play chess.”

“Well, how do you know I play?”

“I don’t” Abbie shrugged. “If you play, good. If you don’t, I can teach you. You seem smart enough to learn, right Professor?” She teased Ichabod as he held the door for her and followed after.

“As it happens, I’ve been playing chess since I was a boy. Prepare yourself for a serious match.”

Ichabod stood to his full height and looked down his nose at Abbie…daring her with one raised eyebrow. Abbie took up the challenge, taking two steps to put her hand on the lapel of his jacket, looking up at him - determined.

“I think I can take you.”

———————

They started the match after eating their burgers. It was Ichabod’s move. Abbie took her beer in hand as she asked, “So, how did you wind up with the name Ichabod? It’s not exactly modern.”

“It’s not modern at all” he said moving his piece. “It’s a family name. At least two hundred years old. I was teased mercilessly when I was younger. Took to having people call me Crane just to avoid the trouble.”

“Has your family always been from England?”

“Mmm” Ichabod swallowed his beer before answering, “Mostly. There is an ancestral home in Scotland, but I’ve never been.”

“Well, I get the hassle of family names.“ Abbie made a move, capturing one of Ichabod’s pawns. “I have two.”

“Two?” He moved after giving it a moment of thought. Abbie was an inventive player - Ichabod had to concentrate if he wanted to win.

“Yup. Abigail is bad enough, but I’m also Grace.”

“Abigail Grace?”

“Grace Abigail. Grace was after an ancestor of mine - also from 200 years ago incidentally - but no one ever called me Grace. I’ve always been Abbie. Your move.” Abbie took a swig of her beer and Ichabod found himself distracted by the sight as she swallowed the drink.

“Oh yes…pardon,” Ichabod made his move, capturing one of Abbie’s pawns. “Grace Abigail Mills.” Ichabod worked hard not to add Crane in his mind. It was far too soon, he knew. He also knew he hadn’t quite succeeded. “Lovely.”

She smiled warmly. “Thank you. I was never a fan of the name Grace. Never thought it suited me.”

“I disagree” he said with conviction and was rewarded as her smile grew.

——————

Ichabod was about to move his knight when Abbie suddenly reached across the table grabbing his arm, “Oh my god, it’s them!” She stage whispered.

“Who?” Ichabod went to look around but was stopped by Abbie’s pressure on his forearm, “It’s Sandwich Bae and Vocal. I can’t believe this!”

“Alright, now I am very confused.” Ichabod put his hand over Abbie’s where it rested on his arm. He liked the feel of it. The feel of her.

Abbie leaned in, “Ok. Here’s the story: the woman is a local vocal coach. She teaches a few kids who regularly visit the library, so we’ve gotten to be friendly. The guy - code name Sandwich Bae - works at a local deli. I go in there at least once a week when I work open-to-close at the library.”

Ichabod leaned closer to Abbie, looking into her deep chocolate brown eyes, “Go on…”

“So Vocal - that’s her code name - and Sandwich Bae have been flirting for months! It’s a straight up RomCom and the regulars at the deli even have a pool going about how long it would take for the first date to happen.”

“A pool? Really?”

There goes that eyebrow again, Abbie thought. “Small town. Keep up, Crane.”

“Apologies. Continue.” She was adorable as she pushed her glasses up her nose, “That’s it really. I hope they are on a date and not just hanging out. We’re all pulling for them.”

Ichabod was able to turn in his chair and quickly observe the couple in question. They were also playing chess and speaking enthusiastically. They looked to be having a great time.

“Well” Ichabod said turning back around, “if they are not on a date, that young man is an idiot. She is very beautiful and from what you say of her, has a personality to match.”

“She does.”

“So what’s the difference between a date and a hangout?”

Abbie moved, slipping her hand off Ichabod’s forearm and sitting back in her chair. He immediately missed her touch.

“A date is a date. Romance. More. Hanging out is just two friends spending time together.”

“So by that definition, we could just be hanging out this evening?”

“We could be. Just two friends spending time together.”

Abbie looked into Ichabod’s suddenly stormy blue eyes expectantly.

“We are not just hanging out.”

Abbie wondered where the steel in his voice had come from, but she realized she liked it. A lot.

“No. We’re not,” Abbie agreed, a little awed by his certainty.

————-

“I can not believe you won with that move.” Ichabod chuckled as he and Abbie walked to her car in the parking lot.

“Well, nothing beats a good blind side. You’ll get me next time.”

“I am not so sure. You are formidable”

Abbie unlocked and opened her car door, before turning back to Ichabod.

“I had a good time. Thank you for asking me.”

“Thank you for accepting.” Ichabod replied with a small bow.

“Well…good night.” Abbie turned to get into her car.

“Abbie! I would not assume any liberty, but I…”

Before Ichabod could finish his half-formed request for a kiss goodnight, Abbie pulled him down to her lips.

Ichabod stopped breathing. He had never felt anything as good as Abbie’s mouth on his. She tasted delicious, he thought, as her tongue touched his and he released a moan that came directly from his groin.

Abbie pulled back for breath, but did not go far, leaning into his chest as he enveloped her in a soul satisfying hug.

“Damn,” she whispered - barely loud enough for him to hear.

“Indeed.” Tightening his arms, Ichabod realized he never wanted to let Abbie go.


	3. Little Bo Peep and Dracula

“Little Bo Peep? Is she trying to kill me?” Ichabod thought as Abbie opened her front door and his jaw almost dropped.

Ichabod and Abbie had been dating for three months and Ichabod was just as unrepentantly besotted as the day he first saw her working in the Sleepy Hollow library. So when Abbie asked him to help her pass out Halloween candy to the neighborhood kids, many she knew from her job as a Librarian, Ichabod was quick to agree, happy to spend an evening with his treasure under any circumstances.

Little did he know his resolve to be a perfect gentleman tonight would be challenged by the sight of Abbie dressed as Little Bo Peep - shoulders exposed, the top framing lucious breasts, leading to her tiny waist, enticing hips and ending at perfectly formed calves. God’s wounds, she was really trying to kill him.

Between her exquisitely sweet kisses and their frustratingly enjoyable make out sessions, Ichabod wasn’t sure he would ever take a warm shower again. Seeing Abbie tonight, big glasses and all, Ichabod was just able to stop a groan from escaping - barely. His thoughts made the Dracula costume all the more appropriate. He wanted nothing more than to nibble on her neck and devour her inch by inch.

“Hey, baby. Come on in.” Abbie stood on tippy toes to peck Ichabod’s lips as she turned to put the bowls of candy next to the door. “Dracula? I like it. I would be Beyoncé but you know…a lot of the kids coming to the door also visit the library for story time, so no tiny shorts and tight tops for me.” Just the thought of Abbie dressed like that made Ichabod even more painfully hard mumbling, “What’s one more cold shower?”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Abbie seemed like she had more to say when the doorbell rang, heralding the arrival of the first children, distracting her much to Ichabod’s relief. A couple of hours later, the pair had passed out all the candy and Abbie turned off her porch light so any late trick or treaters would pass by.

“Ichabod, would you wash the bowls out for me? I’ll be right back.” Abbie asked, smiling as she left the living room and went upstairs.

Ichabod watched her leave - it was quite the view after all and he was only human.

He knew he was a man in love, musing as he washed the bowls…

He loved her mind - intelligent, sharp-witted and extraordinarily perceptive…very little got past her. Her heart was glorious - sweet, strong and so giving. And there was no doubt he adored every inch of her diminutive body - his near constant hard on a reminder even as he washed dishes thinking of her.

“Ichabod.” Abbie said from behind him, a curious note in her voice.

“Yes, Treasure?” Ichabod said, washing the last dish.

“Turn around and look at me.”

Wiping his hands, Ichabod turned and dropped the towel without another thought.

Abbie stood on the bottom step dressed in what he assumed had been under her costume - a soft pink and white strapless bra and a pink thong. Over it she wore a pink robe that only came to mid-thigh. It was held open by Abbie’s hand on her hip.

Ichabod was speechless at the amount of beauty to take in all at once.

“I think tonight is overdue.”

He found his voice in his love for her, “Are you certain?”

“So certain, I have a pile of candy flavored condoms by my bed. I hope you don’t plan on getting much sleep tonight…”

He’d seen Abbie sweet, loving and teasing. But this Abbie…this Abbie seared him with the lust in her eyes. It seemed very much like she intended to devour him inch by inch. Thank God!

“Oh I wouldn’t insult the good fortune that gave me you by demanding something as trivial as sleep.”

Beaming, he strode across the kitchen, picked her up and marched up the stairs to the bedroom.

—————————————-

Ichabod entered her precious body, hardly able to breathe, savoring the unimaginable joy of being held by her warmth and wetness. He looked down into Abbie’s loving eyes, blinking back sudden tears as he held himself still.

“Baby, what’s the matter? Are you ok?”

“Yes, my treasure,” he voice choking. “I feel more than ok. I feel I am home.”

Abbie reached up to wipe a stray tear from Ichabod’s cheek, a bit overcome herself.

“I feel the same way. Always….” breaking the mood with a sly smile, “But if you want your home to stay happy, you’ve got to move. You feel too good to stop now.”

“Indeed” Ichabod pulled back and thrust forward with renewed purpose, pounding Abbie into the sheets as some of his less refined college students might say. He was doggedly determined that Abbie would never want another man in her bed. He could scarcely abide the thought and if her arched back, closed eyes and moans were any indication, he was succeeding admirably.

“Oh, please give it to me baby. Don’t hold back…” her head moved side to side as her inner muscles squeezed him tightly signaling her peak, making him momentarily see stars as he too was overcome.

—————————————

“You know, waiting for you to make the first move is an exercise in futility.” Abbie was resting on Ichabod’s chest, stealing his warmth.

“You are so prescious to me Abbie. I would never presume what of yourself you are willing to share.”

Teasing his chest hairs lightly, she whispered, “Sounds like you love me.”

“Abbie. Abbie, look at me.” He waited until she lifted her head and looked into his eyes. “Love is a very weak word for what I feel for you. I honestly don’t know the word that would suffice.” He asked as his eyes shifted with doubt. “Do you love me?”

“Oh Ichabod Crane, don’t you know?” Abbie’s smile was gentle, open and adoring, “You had me at Ann, Amy and Amelia.”

Abbie leaned up to kiss him and all was right in his world…as he reached for their third condom of the night.


	4. The Outtakes -Mazie's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a series of outtakes set before the timing of Meet the Cranes. Once again, we have the twitter ladies to thank. I'm putting them here because there are references to them in later updates. For those wondering about the timelines, Meet the Cranes takes place a few days before Christmas. This update takes place in early November. Enjoy...as always, mistakes are my own.

“This bitch is trying to die.” Abbie thought, stopping short as she exited the restroom and saw the bottle blond hanging on Ichabod’s shoulder and over his back.

Abbie was behind them but she had a pretty good idea of what was going on. Abbie hadn’t been to Mazie’s in months and decided that November Saturday night, she was in the mood for a beer and some karaoke. It was one more thing - a new part of herself and her life- that she wanted to share with the man she loved. Abbie Mills acknowledged that she was in love with Ichabod Crane and no one was more surprised than her.

They were very different people, at least on the surface. He was a bit stiff and formal and dare she say, persnickety. Abbie was far more laid back. But she loved his mind. He was brilliant. There was no other way to describe it. He was kind - he didn’t think Abbie saw it, but he never failed to give a dollar or two when asked outside of markets or by cash registers. Most of all, he had faith in them as a couple. Abbie had never been bone deep wanted and loved the way Ichabod loved her. His love was the best warm blanket she had ever wrapped herself in and she knew, just knew, she’d never have to feel the cold with him by her side.

Which was why, when they’d entered Mazie’s and the woman had called out loudly and waving to “Dr. Crane!! Hi, Dr. Crane!” Abbie had smiled slightly and ignored her as Ichabod had waved back in her general direction. The blond sat in the corner with a group of four or five women - all blond and all far too old, in Abbie’s opinion, to be yelling across a bar at a man clearly with someone. The place was still pretty quiet - karaoke didn’t start for another 20 minutes. Their intent was clear.

“So, who are your fans?” Abbie asked as Ichabod held the bar height chair for her as she took her seat.

“Some ladies who audit my American History 101 class. It’s curious…at first there was only Ms. Hands - Standra, but then a whole group of them showed up - Ms. Hands’ friends, I presume. They barely do the class work. I can’t for the life of me figure out why they’re taking my class.”

Abbie looked briefly behind her at the ladies and caught the collective death glare from their table. Abbie saw clearly that they did not like the idea of Ichabod being hers. “Oh well”, Abbie mentally shrugged, “Stay Mad.”

“I have an idea why they’re taking your class.” Abbie said matter of factly, “and it has nothing to do with an interest in American History. Sorry, baby… they’ve got Crane on the Brain.”

“That’s…” Ichabod’s blush went up his neck to his cheeks. Abbie smiled gently and put a hand over his bearded cheek leaning in for a quick kiss, “Don’t worry, they’ll get over your deep blue eyes, patrician nose, wavy brown hair and expressive hands…eventually. But the accent, well I’m afraid that’s a forever problem.”

Abbie got up to head to the restroom but couldn’t resist teasing Ichabod some more, “I’ll be right back. While I’m gone, you should check some of the social media sites to see if there are any “Dr. Crane Fan Clubs.” Abbie giggled as Ichabod almost managed to swat her on her ass as she walked away.

So, Abbie knew exactly what she was seeing when she came out of the restroom and marched up to the pair ready to give Standra a good dose of the Mills Family temper when she heard Ichabod speaking to his student in a tone she’s never heard from him - stone cold fury.

“Ms. Hands, you want to know what Abbie has that you don’t? You are either drunk or delusional- I highly suspect both. But, for the sake of crystal clear clarity, I’ll tell you.”

He raised one long finger and put it to her rapidly reddening face. “A mind that fascinates me with wit, intelligence and insight.”

“A soul that I am bonded to so closely that the very thought of being without her is unfathomable.” A second finger went up.

“A body that makes me tingle with adoration whenever she honors me by being in my presence.” A third finger went in Standra’s face. Abbie wondered how the woman was standing the very public dressing down.

“But most of all, my Abbie would have the good manners and plain common sense not to flail all over a man who is not only obviously taken but patently uninterested!” Crane continued, glancing at the group of obsessed women he never wanted to see again. “You and your friends will withdraw from my class and if you so much as lay a hand on me in the future, I will bring you up on charges with the school administration. Now, I suggest you release me before I cease to be the gentleman my father raised me to be!” Ichabod glowered at the woman and she slid off his arm and returned to the table, sitting with her friends once again. Embarrassed and furious.

Ichabod turned slightly, thunder still on his face and saw Abbie standing there with a smile that was glowing from her soul out.

Abbie walked up to Ichabod and stood between his legs. The barstool made it just feasible for her to wrap her arms around his neck, pushing up her glasses and leaning in to whisper,

“When we get home later, I’m going to turn you inside out.” Abbie leaned back to see Ichabod’s reaction to her declaration. Pupils blown.

“My man.” A soft kiss and a wicked grin, “But first, I have to handle a bitch.”

Ichabod sighed with resignation, “Abbie, there’s no need to speak to her. The singing is about to start, let’s just enjoy our evening, yes?” Ichabod did not want his evening or his plans for later ruined by someone he rightfully considered irrelevant.

Abbie stepped back, removing her arms from around his neck, but staying between his legs with her hands resting lightly on his chest.

“I’m not going to speak to her - directly that is. Remember baby, I play chess, not checkers.”

Ichabod watched Abbie go and speak to the waiter and at his happy nod, move towards the front of the stage with him. While Ichabod had been summarily dismissing Ms. Hands, the bar had filled up nicely with patrons arriving to either be or support the evening’s entertainment. Ichabod’s attention was once again drawn to the stage as the waiter spoke up,

“Folks, we are going to start tonight’s festivities with a real treat. Our very own Abbie Mills is back at Mazie’s for karaoke and wants to grace us with a song. Abbie…”

Ichabod clapped along with the crowd. He had never heard Abbie sing before, so his curiosity was piqued. At the first verses of the song, he thought, Abbie’s singing voice a revelation…Ichabod also realized, Abbie was singing to about him to the women still held up in the corner.

“Don’t send me no Doctor. Fillin’ me up with all of those pills. I got me a man named Dr. Feelgood. And that man takes care of all my pains and my ills. His name is Dr. Feelgood the mornin’ and taking care of business is really this man’s gain…”

As Abbie finished the song the room burst in applause, him included and Ichabod saw Abbie give a look of such explicit satisfaction to the corner table that he wanted to cheer for that alone!

——------------------------

Ichabod had barely closed the door to Abbie’s house and removed his coat before she threw her glasses on the side table and pinned him against the door, reaching for his belt. Ichabod felt slightly like his knees were going to buckle.

“Abbie…Treasure…Let’s go upstairs.” He breathed as Abbie released his cock and started stroking him like she owned him, which Ichabod mused, was not far from the truth.

“No, we can do it here,” Abbie said as she spread his pre-cum down his shaft, making him even harder. How did her small hand feel so strong around his considerable length?

“You want to make love in the entryway? On the floor” he panted.

“I want to taste you, baby,” Abbie whispered as she dropped to her knees, taking his jeans and boxers with her. His cock rested against her exquisite lips as she continued. “I want to know what you taste like. I’ve wanted to know for months…” As Abbie took him in, Ichabod’s mind caught up with his body and he stopped himself from pressing on the back of her head - just. But Abbie must have sensed his intent because she relaxed her jaw and took as much of him in her mouth as she could…and swallowed, sucked, licked and swallowed again.

“Oh, Fuck!” Ichabod wanted to apologize for his language but the outburst fit the situation. He didn’t know what to do, it felt so amazing so he looked down and caught Abbie’s eye.

She had been watching him in his pleasure, adjusting to keep him on the edge of exquisite torture. Seeing her lips around him, his cock disappearing into her mouth and feeling his tip hit the back of her throat as she swallowed was sensory overload and he felt compelled to warn her…

“Abbie…I’m about…” He panted desperate to hold off until she released him.

Abbie withdrew just enough to remind him, “I want to taste you, baby.” And then she sucked on him again hard and Ichabod’s knees did buckle slightly as he came with a loud groan.

After he recovered, he pulled Abbie up into a hug,

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Dr. Crane.”

“Don’t you mean, Dr. Feelgood?”

Abbie chucked and stepped back as Crane pulled up his jeans and boxers.

“Well, we’ll have to see how you do in the morning.”

“Morning? Don’t you know what happens when we get to lovin’?” He asked suggestively, eyebrows wiggling.

Abbie burst out laughing, feeling happier than she could remember in years - maybe ever. “Well, come to bed and show me.” She extended her hand to him.

He took the offered hand in his, “As often as you will let me.” He said sincerely, grateful for another chance to love her as she deserved.


	5. The Outtakes - The Purpose of Sweet Potato Pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This outtake is set at Thanksgiving. Crane finally meets two very important people in Abbie's life and Abbie gets some much-needed elder wisdom from her mentor, Miss Evelyn. Thanks again to the twitter ladies for inspiring this update featuring a sweet, old, church going, God-fearing woman who loves to bake pies.

Ichabod watched Abbie check the place settings on her dining room table for a third time in an hour and noted nothing had changed.

The table was set beautifully with white China and autumnal flowers. The house smelled delicious and Ichabod knew she was nervous for the same reason as he. Not only was this their first Thanksgiving together but today he was to meet two very important people in her life: the infamous August Corbin and the equally intriguing Miss Evelyn Johnson. August had, of course been Abbie and her sister’s foster father after their mother died.

Miss Evelyn, as Abbie referred to the much older Black woman, was the former librarian who took young Abbie under her wing - directly inspiring her career choice and acting as a mentor and support ever since. Ichabod wasn’t sure whom he should be more concerned about impressing.

Ichabod crossed the dining room to stop Abbie from moving the water glasses a fourth time in an hour. He put his arms around her waist and bent to rest his forehead against hers,

“Talk to me.”

Abbie leaned into the comfort he offered, “I want everything to be perfect. You all mean so much to me.” She looked up at him, blinking behind her glasses, “Miss Evelyn…she saw _me_ , you know? Not as some motherless child who had nothing to offer the world. She helped me believe I could survive all the bad that happened. She still does, even after she retired just five years ago, even today at 85 years old.”

Ichabod kissed Abbie’s lips softly, pouring in all the love he could to ease her worry. He pulled back just enough to lift her chin to look into her expressive brown eyes, “We will have a wonderful time. You have cooked a fine meal and this is a time for being thankful. Be thankful that you can share this day with Miss Evelyn and August, just as I am thankful for you.”

Abbie smiled, “I am…and I promise you, with your sweet tooth, you will be even more thankful for Miss Evelyn.”

“How so?”

“Her sweet potato pie is the best in three counties.”

Ichabod lifted an eyebrow and wondered, “I don’t believe I’ve ever had sweet potato pie.”

Abbie heard the door bell and turned away from Ichabod to answer it. “That must be them. You are in for a serious treat, baby. _Trust me_.”

Ichabod followed behind Abbie, standing off to the side as she opened the door to admit August Corbin and Miss Evelyn. Corbin was a tall, barrel-chested man with a weathered face and white hair. He looked gruff, but Ichabod knew from Abbie that he was much softer and kinder than his appearance led one to believe.

Miss Evelyn was thin and even more petite than Abbie. She wore a dress that was mauve with lace trim and ended just at her knees and her face was covered by light, but pretty makeup. To be 85 years old, her skin was remarkably smooth. Ichabod noted all this as she walked over the threshold with the aide of a cane.

Despite her apparent frailty, her face showed a keen mind and a iron-willed spirit. Ichabod was suddenly both in awe and terrified as introductions were made and Miss Evelyn looked him up and down, apparently having decided on something before saying baldly,

“So, you’re Abbie’s fella?”

“Yes, ma’am - for as long as she’ll have me.”

“Good answer.” She replied, giving him a small wink. Turning to her long-time friend, “August, honey, put those pies in the kitchen for me? Thank you.”

“Sure thing, Miss E.”

Ichabod extended his elbow in invitation as Abbie followed Corbin into kitchen to settle the pies, “May I offer my arm, Miss Evelyn?”

Miss Evelyn slipped her arm through Ichabod’s, grateful for the extra support and the chance to get to know her sweet Abbie’s fella a little better.

“So Abbie tells me you’re a history professor?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you’re from England?”

“Yes, ma’am”

“And you love our Abbie?”

“Very much ma’am.”

“Well, that’s good. That’s good. At least you two will have an easier time of it now than years ago.”

Ichabod instantly understood the reference and replied softly, “Yes, thankfully, ma’am.”

“Well, dinner needs another 30 minutes,” Abbie announced striding out of the kitchen just as Ichabod helped Miss Evelyn settle on the sofa, her cane within easy reach should she need it.

“Well, I think that is just enough time for Mr. Crane and August to take a walk and get to know each other better,” Miss Evelyn declared primly, putting her hands in her lap.

August was about to protest, but the look Miss E. shot him immediately silenced him. Miss E. wanted him to take a walk, so he was taking a walk.

“C’mon, Crane. I won’t kill you. At least not at first. Promise.”

Ichabod looked to Abbie to save him, but her small shrug let him know he was on his own. There was not a soul in the house willing to defy Miss Evelyn - himself included.

They both heard the door close behind the men.

“Sit down, Abbie. Looking up at you is making my neck hurt,”

“Yes, Miss Evelyn.” Abbie sat next to Miss Evelyn on the sofa and found her left hand immediately taken into the bony, weathered, comforting hands of the older woman. Abbie felt herself relax.

“I made three sweet potato pies for today, but you should only put out two. Hold one back for later. And I’m giving you my recipe book. My pies have won ribbons all over and I think you’re ready.”

Abbie’s surprise showed clearly, “Later?”

“Yes, for later. And don’t say no to my recipe book. You have Good Dick to keep happy now. Nothing works for that like my pies.”

Abbie wasn’t sure she heard correctly, but if she did, she knew she wanted a vortex to open at her feet and swallow her whole.

“I’m sorry…did you say Good…?” Abbie couldn’t even bring herself to finish the question.

“Yes! Now I know you know Good Dick - that fella of yours has it written all over him - not to mention it’s obvious from a casual look at his lap when he’s sitting.” Miss Evelyn continued on, ignoring the slightly strangled sound Abbie made - young people - thinking they invented sex. Silly. “Now you hold that pie back until tonight or better yet tomorrow then remind him about it. Feed him a couple of slices and he’ll keep you in Good Dick for a couple of days, easy. I promise you. No man who travelled across two counties to eat my pie ever objected to traveling across town to eat me.” Miss Evelyn nodded her head once emphatically and Abbie was sure she was being punked.

“But Miss Evelyn, you never married.”

Miss Evelyn gave Abbie a look that could only be described as, _Baby Girl, I know you ain’t that stupid?_

“Since when does getting and keeping Good Dick and having a husband need to go together? Are you married to Mr. Crane?”

“No…”

“He’s bringing that Good Dick?” Miss Evelyn knew the answer to that question. She could spot a woman getting Good Dick at 100 paces.

Abbie’s lowered her eyes, unable to met Miss Evelyn’s directly. She felt like she was 16 years old, not 30. “Yes…”

“Umf, that’s what I thought.” Miss Evelyn reminisced, “I was 25 when I decided I didn’t want to marry, but I also knew I didn’t want to die a Virgin. So, I prayed to God to help me. Not long after I made my very first pie and a fine looking man named Bobby Jackson won it at a church aunction. He called out to the Sweet Lord Jesus as he ate it. Had me calling out to Jesus myself the very next week.”

Abbie didn’t know whether to die from embarrassment or laugh from the craziness of this conversation. Either way, she never saw this coming.

“And it snowballed from there. Whenever I needed some Good Dick, I’d bake a pie - you know Sweet Potato is my specialty - and enter a contest and donate to a cause. Never failed to bring Good Dick to my door. Yes, God answers prayers Abbie, I’m proof of that, but we have to do our part.”

Miss Evelyn patted Abbie’s hand like they were discussing church socials, not how Miss Evelyn kept a steady supply of lovers for 40 years.

“Miss Evelyn, could you please, please stop saying Good Dick?” Abbie begged. It was too much.

“Why? What are the young people calling it these days? I want to be up on the latest.” Miss Evelyn asked earnestly, life-long learner that she was.

Abbie grimaced as she answered. After all, she did ask Miss Evelyn to stop saying it. Lord help her. “The…Bomb D.”

“Well, alright then. Good Dick or The Bomb D, it’s all the same thing and my pies will keep you well supplied.”

“Yes, ma’am” There was nothing else to say. Respect the elder wisdom in all things, Abbie thought, as she shrugged to herself.

“You might want to go in the kitchen and check on your stove. The men will be back soon.”

Abbie leaned over and gave Miss Evelyn a thankful hug. She loved her friend and mentor with all her heart. This was just another lesson, albeit one Abbie could never tell anyone about - they wouldn’t believe her!

Well, Jenny would believe her. Maybe.

———

Abbie exited her master bathroom, crossing the room to the bed while adjusting the protective pineapple that would keep her curls manageable. She saw Ichabod propped up on three pillows reading the latest Roxane Gay book of essays. He was shirtless and Abbie felt her breasts react - nipples hardening. “Damn”, she internally shook her head, “He really is some Good Dick.”

Abbie tucked under the covers and Ichabod put his book down to give his Treasure his undivided attention.

“How was your walk with August?”

“Quite pleasant actually. He is well-versed in the history of Sleepy Hollow and was very helpful in a research project I am currently undertaking.”

“About what?”

Ichabod moved Abbie to lay across his chest, tucking her head under his chin. “Just some local history - nothing extraordinary - at least not yet.”

“Well, good luck with it.” Abbie replied, kissing lightly on his shoulder.

Abbie smirked against Ichabod’s shoulder. “You seemed to really enjoy Miss Evelyn’s pie…you ate… what three quarters of one by yourself?”

Ichabod shifted, slightly embarrassed by the display he put on at the dinner table. He forgot himself in the smooth , delightful pie filling and the flacky, flavorful, buttery crust. Even now, hours later, he felt his mouth water at the memory.

“It was without doubt, the best pie I have ever tasted. Forgive me Abbie, but if Miss Evelyn were 50 years younger and you and I were not in love, I would be sorely tempted to offer her anything she wanted of me for another slice of that pie.”

Abbie laughed as she thought, “Score one for you, Miss Evelyn! You still got it.”

Moving up to his neck, Abbie pecked as she murmured, “Well, Miss Evelyn did leave me another pie and is giving me her recipe book so I can make them myself. So, the real question is, what will you give _me_ to share my pie with you?”

Moving over Abbie, he encouraged her to lay on her back as he moved down her body, removing the covers and her underwear in one smooth motion, settling hungrily between her thighs.

“Well, I’m sure we can come to some agreement,” he murmured sexily against Abbie’s wet, ready folds as he dove into his best meal of the day.


	6. Meet the Cranes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichabod's parents come over from England to meet the woman their son can't stop talking about and Ichabod and his father have a heart-to-heart.
> 
> Again, apologies for any mistakes - I'm sure they are numerous...

Abbie watched Ichabod and his parents walk up to her front door. Ichabod was the splitting image of Charles Crane and if he looked as distinguished and fit in 30 years as his father- well Abbie wouldn’t complain. Damn. His mother was slender and not that much taller than Abbie. She also appeared to be in her early 60s and had a vitality that matched her husband. Abbie liked them on sight and some of her nerves dissipated as she went downstairs to answer the door.

“Please, come on in.” Abbie stepped aside for the trio to enter her cozy home.

Ichabod put his arm around Abbie and smiled across the entry way to his parents.

“Mum. Dad. This is Abigail Mills. Abbie, these are my parents - Charles and Helena Crane. “

“It’s so nice to meet you, Mr and Mrs Crane” Abbie reached out to shake hands and found her palm held my Ichabod’s mother, her dark blue eyes warm and smiling.

“Please call me Helena and pray tell, what is that delicious smell?”

“Oh, I thought you might be hungry after your flight, so I made brunch. Please, get settled in the dining room while I finish up in the kitchen. Ichabod can help with your coats and such. There is a pot of English Breakfast on the table in the dining room to help you warm up. Ichabod mentioned it’s your favorite. I know It’s cold out there.”

The two couples enjoyed the eggs, bacon, blueberry muffins and tea Abbie had prepared, initially making small talk. “Tell me Abbie” Charles asked, wiping his mouth with his napkin, “What led you to become a Librarian for children?”

Abbie pushed up her glasses, took a deep breath and let it out, preparing herself for the painful memories, “Well, after my mom died, my sister and I were in foster care for a number of years before we found permanent placement with the Corbins. It a rough time in my life and libraries were a real refuge. I went there 2 or 3 times a week easily. I realized that I wanted to give back - help be a safe place for kids, especially kids like me who really don’t have any place else to go.” Abbie shrugged nonchalantly but Ichabod didn’t miss the shadow that crossed her face and reached for her hand resting on the table next to his.

“Well, that is a very good reason to choose a profession. I’m sure your mother would be proud.” Helen’s said gently. “Ichabod didn’t mention you have a sister.”

Abbie chuckled, “Jenny. They haven’t met yet. Jenny’s job takes her around the world for months at a time. Right now, she’s somewhere in Asia. She texts and emails a few times a week to let me know she’s still alive - which I insist on as the worrying older sister. “

“Ichabod is an only child, as I’m sure you know. Perhaps that’s why he always disappeared into books and ended up a professor?” Charles mused in the same English accent Abbie loved about Ichabod.

“Please, I became a professor because I’m the child of two professors. English history and psychology.” Ichabod motioned to first Charles and then Helena.

“Well, there is that” Helena threw up her hands and then reached into her bag for her phone. “I think we’ve reached the part of the day where we embarrass our son relentlessly. Abbie…” Abbie could see Helena swiping at her phone and guessed what was coming “would you like to see some of Ichabod’s baby pictures?”

——————

“Hmmm. How is it you always manage to taste delicious?”

Ichabod kissed up from Abbie’s neck to her jawline, making her forget the dish she washed at the kitchen sink, but not that Ichabod’s parents were still in the dining room.

“Oh God, please stop before I embarrass myself.” Abbbie whined, But Ichabod didn’t fail to notice how she moved to give him better access to her lovely skin. His smile against her neck was smug.

“Why Treasure? Is this a problem” he asked in between kisses.

Abbie heard the smug humor in his question and decided enough was enough as she turned abruptly in his arms.

“Ichabod Crane,” Abbie’s voice was forceful as she pushed him away with one dainty little finger, “Your parents are in the next room and I am not going to get caught by your mother making out like some horny teenager.”

She huffed, “So you take all of that…” waving a finger along all six-foot two inches of - Lord - Abbie fought off a sudden urge to fan herself. Focus, Girl! “over to the island, sit down and we can talk like adults.”

Ichabod wanted to laugh. Abbie was so cute. Heaving chest from her rapid breathing, lips pursed and eyes on fire with both irritation and arousal. But, he also wanted to live to see his next birthday, so he dutifully did as he was told and sat at the island - as if his own hardened state did not make sitting uncomfortable.

“I do wish you would reconsider and come with us.”

Ichabod gave Abbie his best puppy dog look, the same one that had convinced her to let him drive her to a third orgasm one night even though she’d declared she couldn’t take another. Some of his best work, that night, if he did say so himself.

Resist…Abbie thought to herself seeing the lust flitter across his face. Damn, he looked sooo good…anyway. “No, you and your parents need some time to yourselves. Besides, my sister and Joe aren’t making it home this year for the holidays, so I’m spending some time with August. He’s been a little lonely lately.”

Abbie slightly nibbled her bottom lip with her teeth, a tell-tell sign she was worried.

“So bring him with us!” Ichabod shrugged. He liked Corbin well enough and if it meant more time with Abbie…

“No.” Abbie sighed, “He’s the closest thing to a father I have. He needs my undivided attention right now.”

Hey eyes begged Ichabod to understand - to accept what she felt was right, he knew. How could he do anything else? She was his treasure.

“Abbie, I love you.” He smiled, sending her his support, “Of course, do what you think is best.”

_____________________

“Ichabod!”

Ichabod stopped in his tracks upon hearing his father’s hiss-whisper behind him.   The two hour drive to the ski resort had left Ichabod more than a little restless - a walk alone along the snow covered paths was just he needed. Oh well.

“Yes, Dad?” turning towards him.

“We need to speak about Abbie.”

“Abbie?” His back immediately went up. He didn’t want to “speak” about Abbie. He loved her. End of discussion.

“Listen, Dad, if you’re going to give me some outdated notions about race mixing…”

“Race mix…? Are you insane? We raised you - your mother and I. And we certainly did not raise you to be anything other than a man worthy of Abbie’s obvious love for you. Race mixing…do you honestly think so little of us?” Charles Crane’s face telegraphed both his horror and hurt.

“I’m sorry Dad,” Ichabod was sincerely contrite for having misjudged his parents. It’s just they tended to loath any woman he brought home, especially his mother. But Abbie seemed different.

He looked at his father with wonder in his eyes, “Mum really likes Abbie.”

“She more than likes her. Helena adores Abbie and would like nothing better than little Ichabod and Abbie babies running around the house.”

“Babies?” Ichabod was flabbergasted. Who was this woman masquerading as his mother?

“Yes. And that’s where you come in. When do you plan to ask for Abbie’s hand?”

“Well…I hadn’t really given the timing any serious thought. Who is to say Abbie would even accept?”

Charles rolled his eyes, well - as much as any well-breed Englishman allowed himself. He loved his only child, truly. Ichabod was kind and loyal and brilliant but heaven forgive him, dumb as a box of rocks when it came to matters of the heart.

“She loves you. More than that, she did everything in her power to makes your mother and I feel extraordinarily welcome in her home.”

Charles placed his hands on Ichabod’s shoulders and stepped to the son who not only inherited his features, but his height as well.

“If she doesn’t accept, it probably means you’ve managed to muck it up and my dear boy, I will have to kill you, because your mother will make my life miserable.”

Ichabod struggled to unpack his father’s words without laughing out loud. He came up short at the look in Charles Crane’s face. His was serious.

“Dad, are you actually suggesting that Mum would make you suffer because of who I date?” He huffed, incredulous.

Charles released Ichabod with a step back and a raised eyebrow. “Have you met your mother?”

“I know I’ve brought home a girlfriend or two she wasn’t fond of, but I hardly think…”

Charles had enough. His son needed to understand the gravity of the situation - man to man.

“Katrina, remember her?”

“What…what about Katrina?”

Ichabod briefly remembered the redhead he dated a few years back. For a time, he’d even thought himself in love with her, but he knew now what he felt paled in comparison to his feelings for Abbie. He honestly hadn’t thought about Kat in years.

“I am not even allowed to say her name, Ichabod!” Charles raised his hands in exasperation, “That awful weekend she spent with us - my God - what were you thinking?”

“Well…she wasn’t really that bad…”

“She fancied herself a witch.” Charles said drily.

“Wicca is a perfectly acceptable faith, Dad.” Ichabod knew he was on shaky ground defending his romantic choices before he found Abbie, but Crane men did not go down without a fight.

“Yes and if she had been a Wiccan, her constant talk about the power she had would have made more sense.” Charles countered, “But according to Helena, she dismissed many of the principles that Wiccans have, mainly to only use the power for good!”

Charles ran fingers through his hair, “I’d like to say that was the worst of it, but the whispering is what really sent your mother over the edge. She renamed her ‘Whisper Witch’ and banished me to the guest bedroom for a month following your visit!”

Charles took his son’s face in his hands, and declared, “I have not gone more than a month without my wife’s intimate touch since you were born and I’m not about to start now. Am I clear?”

Ichabod was a bit frightened by his father’s intensity but nevertheless gently removed his face from between Charles’ hands and turned slightly, “Why would Mum blame you?”

“We are both Crane men. You are our son, but when you do something stupid, you are mine alone.” Charles lowered his head, putting his hands in his pockets - it was after all, damn cold to be standing outside having this conversation. Time to get to his point.

“I know Abbie is the love of your life, the same way I know your mother is the love of mine. Imagine years from now, not being welcome in your marriage bed because your child is an idiot?”

“Oh…” the thought was painful.

“Exactly. Your mother wants grandchildren who will grow to be well-adjusted, kind, good citizens of the world. Helena knows that can happen with Abbie as their mother. With Katrina, all she said was ‘Sociopath, their child would be a sociopath.’

“I’m sorry, Dad, I had no idea.”

“You do now.” Charles put his arm around his son, walking them back to their suite and stopping at the door as he promised, “and you don’t want to have any idea of what I’ll be like if I have to spend my twilight years sleeping in the guest room.”

Ichabod got to the heart of it all as he opened the door, “I do want to marry Abbie, Dad. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“I know. Good then, it’s settled. Have you looked at rings yet? I bet your mother will have some ideas.”

Charles smiled as they crossed the threshold. They saw Helena sipping tea at the dining table, lifting her head in happy surprise, having heard the tail end of the conversation.

——————

“Abbie…please” Ichabod briefly squeezed his eyes shut, desperate to come. Abbie rode him hard and the sight of her arched back, breasts perfectly bouncing, begging for his mouth combined with her exquisite tightness around his cock was about to push him over the edge. Still, Abbie refused his plea for release.

“No,” she panted from the exertion, a light sheen of sweat covering her torso. Ichabod wanted to lick every drop. “You don’t get to come until I say so. I’m not done with you yet.” Abbie looked at his beet red face with steel in her eyes, and by God, it made him go even impossibly harder.

“Yes…oh God…tell me what to do so I can come, Abbie. Please!” Ichabod felt his toes curl as his words seemed to make her ride him even harder, but he held off and denied the tightening in his balls.

“First, you’re going to apologize for making me all hot and bothered when your parents were here for Christmas.” Abbie stopped moving suddenly and he wanted to cry. “Please…Abbie, I need to come so badly.”

“Apologize and maybe I’ll let you come.”

“I’m sorry…I won’t do it again. I promise.” Ichabod would have promised Abbie his left arm at that moment and he honestly wouldn’t have cared.

Blessedly, Abbie started to move again and Ichabod thought finally she would let him come, but she lifted off of him instead and the loss of her warm wetness was a physical pain. She moved next to him on her bed, on all fours, expectant.

“You want to come, Crane? Get over here and fuck me. Hard. Then I’ll let you come.”

Ichabod had never moved faster in his life, grabbing her hips roughly and pushing in with one single thrust that had her punching the pillow in her pleasure. “Damn. Take it. Come on, fuck me, baby” Abbie met each thrust of his hips with her own.

“Oh, you feel so good, Treasure. Please let me come!” He was almost in tears and he had no idea how he was holding out.

“Ok. Come for me baby. Let me feel it in the back of my throat.”

“Grrrr…ugghg…Yes!” Three hard thrusts and his orgasm, mixed with the sound and feel of Abbie’s, was the strongest he could remember. Ichabod collapsed to her side, always mindful of Abbie’s petite size, but was unable to keep from touching her everywhere he could reach. “Thank you. Thank you.”

After Ichabod disposed of the condom and came back to bed, Abbie scooted over to his warmth, resting across his chest. She loved the way his chest hairs felt against her breasts and rubbed along him like a contented cat.

“You liked that, huh?” She said in between a jaw cracking yawn.

“I loved it…almost as much as I love you.” Ichabod kissed the top of her messy curls.

“Mmmm, Good” Abbie snuggled down into his chest, sleep fast approaching.

Ichabod could tell by her breathing that Abbie was almost asleep so he risked saying quietly, “I want our daughter to have your eyes.”

Abbie shifted slightly, turning in Ichabod’s arms right before sleep claimed her, “Good thing. Brown eyes dominate blue. Love you…Happy New Year…”

She was deeply asleep. She’s never know he’d uttered the words as the clock struck midnight and a new year was born. It didn’t matter. Ichabod needed to say it like he needed to breath - to declare himself, so he whispered into her hair,

“Grace Abigail Mills, will you marry me?”


	7. The Outtakes - Christmas Present Exchange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This outtake takes place after the Crane's has left but before the end of Meet the Cranes - so between Christmas and New Year. Abbie and Crane pick the perfect Christmas gifts for each other. Enjoy, mistakes are my own.

Early in the morning a few days after Christmas, Abbie walked out of Ichabod’s bedroom wearing nothing but his shirt. She saw him placing a small box underneath his “Charlie Brown” tree- next to the much larger box Abbie had placed there the night before.

Walking up behind him, Abbie draped herself over his broad back and wrapped her arms around the front of his neck.

“Hmmm, good morning…did I over sleep?” She asked, kissing along th skin from his open collar to his beard.

Ichabod fought back a groan, “No, Treasure. Not at all. Clearly you needed the rest.”

“Nothing but your fault” Abbie mumbled she as lifted off of Ichabod and sat down next to him on the floor, knees raised - giving him his first good look at her attire.

“I swear, if you wear nothing but my shirts for the rest of my life, I would be eternally grateful.” Ichabod’s gaze started at her delicate toes, painted a shocking pink, roamed up what seemed to be miles of the softest, best chocolate he ever had the pleasure of tasting and stared without shame at the cleavage revealed by a shirt that was several sizes too big for her. He wanted her. Badly. He knew in his bones he always would.

Abbie flushed under his naked perusal and swallowed a strong urge to ride him right there on his living room floor.

Presents- they were supposed to be opening presents.

“So, are you ready to open presents?”

“I can think of a few things I would much prefer to open this morning.”

“Ichabod…” Abbie’s tone was a warning and a promise.

“But presents it is…” Ichabod reached over and lifted the small box from under the tree handing it to Abbie. “You first, Treasure. Always.”

Abbie smiled and quickly kissed Ichabod before crossing her legs to open her present, starting with the card.

“Dearest Abigail. You are my Christmas. Every day. Love always, Ichabod”

“Thank you,” Abbie said quietly as she held the card to her heart. “I love it so much.”

“Well, the card is not your present!”

“If it were, it would be enough.” Abbie started opening the present, carefully removing the beautiful paper to reveal a book.

“What a beautiful old book, baby. What’s the title?” Abbie asked turning it over. It looked to be handmade with a leather string to tie it closed.

“Open it. The title is on the front page.” Ichabod said sweetly, eagerly watching Abbie’s face for her reaction to his gift.

Abbie untied the leather strap and opened the book reading the title out loud.

“The Journal of Grace Dixon”

Abbie’s eyes went wide with shock as she traced the handwritten name of her namesake ancestor on the thick parchment,

“How?…Where?” Complete sentences were beyond Abbie as she lovingly turned the pages.

Ichabod smiled, beyond pleased at her reaction. “I am a fair historian. You gave me the clues. You were named after Grace Dixon who lived in the area as a free woman of color 200 years ago. From there, I tracked down manors where she might have worked looking for any record of her. At the last place I checked, about a month ago, the innkeeper remembered seeing her name and let me see the journal. It had been found in a closet during a renovation of all things. I asked if I could buy it and after telling them that I was gifting it to a descendant of the fine woman, they sold it to me.”

“I hope you didn’t pay too much.” Abbie chewed her bottom lip - a sign of worry - unnecessary in this case.

“It was worth every penny to see your happiness.”

Abbie lifted her face to Ichabod, not even trying to stop or hide the tears now streaming down her face. He had given her a part of herself with this gift - a tangible link to a past that few Black women got to know beyond broken family stories. She had never loved him more.

“I don’t even know how to thank you for this Ichabod. It’s the most beautiful, perfect gift I’ve ever received.”

“I know how you can thank me. Turn to the last page with writing on it.”

Abbie did as asked and gasped, the last page was an instruction from Grace Dixon to “any female descendant of mine who finds these words - this book will be complete when you add your experiences to mine. God Bless You.”

“I can’t…write in this book. I can’t!”

“You must, Abbie. Grace Dixon has waited 200 years for this journal to be completed. Do you think she should wait longer?” Ichabod’s tone was gently reassuring.

“I’ll think about it.” Abbie replied quietly, putting the book to her side and reaching for Ichabod’s present from her and handing him the box. “I feel bad now. My gift is silly in comparison.”

Ichabod wiped the tears still clinging to Abbie’s face, “Whatever is in this box was bought with your love of me in mind. I could never be disappointed.”

Ichabod let go of Abbie and opened his card - admiring the jolly Santa cartoon on the front.

He read aloud, “Ian. Isaac. Ilias. No matter the name, I know we were meant to be. Love, Abbie”

Ichabod smiled at the reminder of how they first met only six months ago. Had it only been that long? He looked at Abbie, swimming in his shirt, her tear-stained face partially hidden by her huge glasses and thought she had never looked more beautiful. The love Ichabod saw in her eyes was God sent to bless him, he was sure of it.

Opening his present, Ichabod’s nose was hit with the strong scent of maple…and was that…bourbon, he thought eyebrow lifting.

Lifting the lid Ichabod saw a dozen perfect, beautiful donuts coated with a maple glaze that made his mouth water to just look at them.

“Where did you get these perfect confections?” Ichabod lifted a donut and just sniffed, eyes closing with a look that Abbie had seen more than once on his face. Ecstasy.

“There’s a gourmet donut shop in the City. I signed you up for their “donut of the month” club. For the next year, every month they will deliver a dozen one-of-a-kind gourmet donuts directly to you.” Abbie giggled as Ichabod bit into the donut, releasing a pleasure-filled moan that should be illegal…and probably was in several countries.

“You like it, babe?”

“Like? There is only one thing I know that would improve the taste.”

“A Cappuccino?”

“Maybe for you…not me, Treasure.”

Holding the donut in his mouth, Ichabod gently pushed Abbie down on to the rug, unbuttoning his shirt when she was fully reclined.

Then carefully, reverently he crumbled the delicious treat over Abbie’s beautiful, pert breasts and gleefully ate every last morsel, making sure to “lick his plate clean.”

Merry Christmas! Indeed.


	8. Would You Go With Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenny comes for an unexpected visit and Crane learns more about Abbie's past before putting his improved voice to good use. Enjoy. Mistakes are my own.

Abbie looked through the peephole thinking “No way!” She laughed and opened the door quickly,

“What are you doing here?”

“Is that anyway to greet your favorite baby sister?”

Jenny Mills asked as she adjusted the duffle back on her right shoulder. She had pulled some favors to get a spot on the transport leaving Laos in order to get to Sleepy Hollow on time. She knew her sister was worth it. She also knew this Crane dude owed her  _several_.

“Can I come in or are you sending me to a local hotel because “lover man” has turned my room into his library?”

Abbie stepped aside so Jenny could come in and immediately enveloped her younger, but taller sister in a bear hug. It had been months.

“Ichabod does not live here” Abbie said as she continued to hug Jenny, “and you will always have a place to stay in my home. So don’t play, you hear me?”

“I hear you.” Jenny fought the sudden tears that sprang to her eyes. “Listen, let me put this bag down, take a quick shower and then you can tell me more about ‘Tall, Dark and British’. Emails and texts only go so far.”

“Ok. I’ll put on some coffee.”

Being with her sister  _and_  having her coffee?  _Priceless_. “You are a gift, sister. Be back down in 15.”

Jenny and Abbie sat on opposite corners of Abbie’s sofa - mugs of coffee on hand. Jenny had forgotten how good it was to be home with her sister. Maybe Crane would only owe her one for getting her back to Sleepy Hollow.

“Sooo, tell me about your guy.” Jenny asked, taking a sip of the coffee.

“There’s not a lot to tell. He’s 33…a professor of American History at the college, tall, skinny. Blue eyes, light brown hair…” Abbie shrugged helplessly. She had texted and emailed Jenny about Crane, but had not yet confessed to another living soul besides him how she felt. Her sister’s question was complex in its simplicity - just like Jenny.

“I don’t need a bio on him Abs…you sent a picture.” Jenny pinned Abbie with a look. “Tell me about your guy.”

Abbie gave in with a sigh. The Mills Sisters had never withheld from each other and Abbie wasn’t about to start now, “I…I love him. So much sometimes it scares me.”

“That’s obvious.” Jenny said with a questioning tilt of her head, “He must be something special.” Jenny already knew Crane was crazy about her sister - that’s why she was back in town on such short notice. But crazy in love didn’t mean worthy, Jenny knew. Some real jerks had been “in love” with her too.

“He really is” Abbie tucked her legs underneath her on the sofa, shifting to get closer to her longest and best confidante. “Remember how I’ve always wanted to travel - see more of the world than just the tristate area?” Abbie continued at Jenny’s nod “I mentioned randomly that I’ve always wanted to go to Italy, but the timing or the money never seemed to work out. I didn’t think anything of it.”

Both of Jenny’s eyebrows shot up, “Don’t tell me he gave you a plane ticket to Italy? Cuz, damn!”

“No,” Abbie scoffed. “We’d only been dating a month or so then - that would have been nuts.”

“So, what’d he do?”

“He invited me to his apartment” Jenny watched a dreamy smile cross Abbie’s face at the memory, “He has walls of books. And then more books piled in corners. These two big comfy leather chairs - with books stacked next to them, of course.” Abbie’s chuckle was soft and loving, “I’ve never seen anything like it. But it’s comfortable. Like him….”

Jenny waved her hand in front of her sister’s face “Earth to Abbie?! Come in, Abbie…”

Abbie blinked rapidly and looked at her sister flushing with embarrassment at being caught literally staring off into space thinking about her boyfriend.

“Well anyway…I like his apartment. When I arrived, he had Italian opera playing and he met me at the door with Italian wine.” Abbie scooted closer to Jenny like she did when they were kids, knees touching.

“He cooked a five course Italian meal for me! And for dessert, homemade gelato. It was such an amazing thing to do. He said if I couldn’t go to Italy, he would bring it to me. We spent the evening practicing my pathetic Italian and listening to Opera. That’s who he is - he pays far more attention than most people and goes out of his way to make me feel special. I mean, Grace’s journal alone…” Abbie took a deep breath. “The truth is, Jenny, we shouldn’t fit but somehow we do.” Abbie shrugged, “I’ve given up trying to explain it.”

Jenny smiled, really happy to see her sister so happy and obviously well-loved by her guy, but that didn’t mean Jenny was out of questions. Once a bratty little sister, always a bratty little sister…

“Opera, huh? Can he sing?”

Abbie’s quick grimace answered for her.

“He doesn’t have a  _bad_  voice - he’s a baritone bordering on bass. But the few times we’ve gone to Mazie’s for karaoke night and he’s pulled out some ancient sea shanty - well, let’s just say he’s lucky he’s smart and pretty.”

“Fair enough. Ok, one last question and then I’m treating you to lunch.” Jenny paused for affect and asked matter-of-factly, “I know he has the ‘Miss Evelyn’s Good Dick Housekeeping Seal of Approval’, but is this dude really blowing your back out?”

“Jenny!” Abbie threw a sofa cushion at her head, which Jenny blocked with an ease born from years of practice.

“I’m just saying, Italian dinners are nice and all but if the guy doesn’t know what to do with his hands…I know an  _actual_  Italian who can help you with that, just say the word.” Jenny bated her eyes like she was an innocent church mouse.  _The_   _lies!!!_

“He knows what to with his hands. Trust me. And he working with a lot.” Abbie did fan herself at that memory as things started to clinch automatically.

Jenny held her hands up about 6 inches apart, palms facing in, eyebrow raised in question. Abbie moved Jenny’s left hand out 3 more inches, smirking.

“Damn,” Jenny said impressed “Tall, skinny boys deliver…maybe I should get me one?”

Abbie playfully smacked Jenny’s arm, “From what I remember, you already have one or are you  _not_  going to see Frank Irving while you’re in town?” Abbie could play innocent church mouse just as well as her sister.

Jenny moved to get up from the sofa and take her mug, now empty, to the kitchen sink. “Stop being nosy! Let’s go. I’m hungry.”

Abbie followed Jenny into the kitchen, laughing at her sister’s expense. “Uh-huh…brat can dish it out, but can’t take it.”

——--------------

Jenny sat at the kitchen island carefully reading Grace Dixon’s journal while taking a second sip of her morning coffee when she heard the knock on the door. Crossing the living room to the entry way, she looked briefly out the peephole before opening the door to the not unexpected visitor,

“You must be Tall, Dark and British. Don’t you have your own key?”

Ichabod looked over Jenny - she was several inches taller than Abbie. Her face was long and thin, with short cropped hair and she wore a smirk on a face that spoke of knowing intelligence. Ichabod wasn’t sure he liked Abbie’s younger sister, but he suspected there was much about her to admire.

“My name is Ichabod Crane and no, I most certainly do not have a key,” Ichabod stood ramrod straight but Jenny didn’t fail to notice his slightly twitchy left hand. A sign of his nerves that made Jenny soften.

“I’m just messing with you. I’m Jenny Mills. Abbie went for a long run, so we have some time to get to know each other better. That work for you Crane?”

“Yes, thank you.” Ichabod stepped over the threshold shedding his heavy winter coat in the process. The February day was unusually warm, but that could change by the end of the day and Ichabod didn’t want to get ill. He knew his voice couldn’t afford it.

Jenny turned to leave him alone to hang up his coat, “I’ll pour you a cup of coffee and we can talk.”

Ichabod nodded as he hung up his coat, emptied his pockets on the coffee table and sat in the living room chair, anxious to speak with Jenny.

Jenny sat on the sofa opposite Ichabod after handing him his coffee. She knew from Abbie that he liked it more sugar than caffeine so she emptied three heaping teaspoons in the mug. If he didn’t love it, she couldn’t help him.

She started, “So…”

Crane cleared his throat, “Yes, right so…about Abbie…I hope you know I love her very much.”

Jenny looked Ichabod in the eye, letting her face slightly harden. She knew the silence was uncomfortable but Jenny let it settle around them as she studied the man who had won her sister’s heart.

Finally she spoke, “You’d be a fool not to love Abbie.”

“Indeed,” Ichabod shifted in the chair, wiping his hands on his pants leg, thinking,  _C’mon Crane - get yourself together man._

Sitting tall in the chair he declared, “I assure you, Miss Jenny, when it comes to your sister, I am no fool.”

Ichabod visibly relaxed at the subtle nod from Jenny. “Abbie told me a bit about what you do for a living. You must be quite the badass - as it were.”

“A badass? Me? Maybe.” Jenny cocked her head to the side and looked at Crane from under her eye lashes, “Has Abbie told you about our childhood?”

“Not much,” Ichabod mused, “It feels like a part of herself she is hesitant to share. I don’t know why...”

Jenny figured as much. “Our dad was long gone by the time Mom died. We didn’t have any relatives to take us in, so we ended up in foster care - thankfully together.”

Ichabod recognized his fortune - his privilege and wanted to show his empathy “I am so sorry for all you endured. I cannot imagine…”

“I’m not telling you this for pity, Crane,” Jenny replied sharply.

“I…please go on” He sat back in the chair, suitably chastised.

“The first home we were placed with...that bitch was a piece of work. She was only in it for the money. The kids slept on mattresses on the floor three to a room and there was  _never_  enough food.” Jenny shook her head at the memory. “Abbie got so skinny that year...”

“Didn’t you as well?” Crane asked curiously.

“No, because Abbie always gave me half her food. Even when I said no, she would make me take it - saying I needed it more because I was younger and had more to grow.” Jenny slightly scoffed “She could spin almost anything - even then. Finally one day at school, Abbie fainted from hunger, was examined by the school nurse and we were eventually moved to another placement,”

Ichabod was shaken and deeply inhaled and exhaled processing this new information about the woman he treasured most in the world. He waited while Jenny shifted to get comfortable and spoke, “The second place seemed like paradise in comparison. We had our own room in the house of this middle aged couple - Stan and Barbara. We had real beds again and there was plenty to eat. They seemed nice…”

“I sense a ‘but’”

“But Stan liked to touch little girls while he thought they were asleep and Barbara knew it.”

Ichabod found himself standing abruptly, incensed “Did that monster touch Abbie?”

“No Crane,” Jenny looked up at his pacing, “He liked me.” Jenny put her hand up to stall whatever Crane was going to say next and watched as he retook his seat. “I woke up while he was…touching me and jerking off…I was so scared. We had a good thing there, you know? Abbie was gaining weight, we had enough to eat. I could ruin it all.”

Ichabod heard the catch in Jenny’s throat, but wisely kept silent.

“But Abbie and I, we never kept secrets from each other - even when our mom was alive, so I told her what had happened. I could tell she was scared too - but she told me it was going to be ok - and I believed her.” Jenny huffed, “The next night when he came in to…you know…Abbie was waiting for him. She pretended to be asleep and just as he reached under my cover, she swung a baseball bat down on his arm.”

“What?” Ichabod laughed, not because it was funny, but because he was so proud.

“Yup” Jenny laughed along with Crane. “She’d borrowed it from a kid who lived down the street, Joey Corbin. Shattered that pervert’s forearm, she did. He was in construction and ended up at the hospital with a lot of explaining to do as his injury was clearly an assault. It wasn’t long after that we caught the attention of Joey’s Dad, August. He was the sheriff at the time and had his suspicions about good, ole Stan but could never get a kid to talk before me and Abbie. We talked all right, Abbie was so brave - and Stan was sent away for a good long time. That’s when Corbin decided to be our foster Dad and I’m guessing you know the rest.”

“Yes. I knew you and Abbie spent time in foster care and that it was by no means pleasant, but I had no idea as to the rest. I am so sorry” Ichabod’s eyes showed his sincerity and Jenny responded,

“It’s funny. Everyone thinks I’m the big, tough Mills Sister. ‘The Badass’” Jenny said with air quotes, “But I’m who I am because Abbie is who she is.  _She’s_  the warrior, not me.”

Crane released a long sigh, “I think I’m beginning to understand.” He stood, grabbing his car keys off the coffee table. “I’m afraid I should go.”

“Probably. Abbie will be back soon.” Jenny agreed, following behind him to the coat closet.

“I’d die for my sister, Crane” Jenny emphasized as she watched Crane put on his coat.

He turned to face her fully, determined to be clear. “That is one thing you and I will always have in common. I would die for Abbie as well - without hesitation.”

Jenny nodded in understanding “See you tonight.”

“Indeed.” Ichabod answered, opening the door.

“Good luck” Jenny whispered as she shut the door behind him. Going back into the living room, she picked up the two mugs and a small box off the coffee table, tucking the box into her pocket.

——-----------

Abbie took Jenny’s arm in hers as they approached the door to Mazie’s.

“So, are you going to sing tonight?”

“Me? Nah, sis. You’re the Mills Sister with the voice of an angel. I’m the one with the bad attitude and questionable morals. Let’s stay in our lanes.”

“Oh, ok.” Abbie chuckled lightly, knowing better of Jenny - she hoped, “Sorry Ichabod couldn’t meet us. He said something about having other plans. Come to think of it, he was pretty vague. That’s not like him…” Abbie’s voice drifted off as she started to wonder.

“What? Am I dog food? Let’s see what the evening brings. Promise I won’t let you do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Oh, Good Lord.” Abbie rolled her eyes as they settled into their seats at a table, sitting next to each other to face the stage. The place was crowded tonight. A few people came over to say hello to Jenny, asking how long she would be in town. Finally, it was time for the karaoke to start and Bill, the head bartender came to the stage.

“Welcome to Mazie’s Karaoke Night, Valentine’s Day Edition. Tonight is love songs and only love songs. First up is Ichabod Crane singing the Josh Turner hit, Would You Go with Me.”

Abbie’s face showed her confusion as she clapped along with the crowd and watched Ichabod take the stage. She knew he was very nervous, having learned his twitchy left hand tell months ago. She felt for him and tried to catch his eye to smile her support for whatever crazy thing he was about to do.

_Would you go with me if we rolled down streets of fire_ __  
_Would you hold on to me tighter as the summer sun got higher_ __  
_If we roll from town to town and never shut it down_ __  


Abbie was in awe. He sounded  _good_. Really good! Abbie leaned over to her sister, “Jenny, he sounds amazing! I swear his voice was not this good the last time we came here. Maybe he found the right song?” Abbie turned to her Jenny still quizzical about the turn this evening had taken.

“Abbie, honey,” Jenny reached into her pocket, pulled out the small box and placed It in front of her sister. “Listen to the words.”

_If I gave you my hand would you take it_ __  
_And make me the happiest man in the world_ __  
_If I told you my heart couldn't beat one more minute without you, girl_ __  
_Would you accompany me to the edge of the sea_ __  
_Let me know if you're really a dream_ __  
_I love you so, so would you go with me_ __  


Abbie glanced down at the box and her eyes shot up to connect with Ichabod’s,

_“Are…are you asking me…?_

_“With all my heart.”_

_“I…oh my God. Oh my God.”_

_“Grace Abigail Mills, will you allow me the great honor of being your husband?”_

_“Yes!! Oh God! Yes!!!”_

Jenny guessed from the heart eyes the pair were making at each other and Abbie’s sudden nodding that a silent question had been asked and answered. Her suspicions were confirmed when Crane finished the song, ran off the stage, picked Abbie up in his arms – clear off the floor – and kissed her as if they were the only two people in the crowded bar.

Abbie didn’t hear the room erupt in applause. She only felt Ichabod’s arms around her and the beautiful, wondrous feeling of being whole and safe and loved.

\-------------------------

The group stood in the parking lot of Mazie’s. The night hadn’t turned cold and it was unseasonable warm. Abbie couldn’t stop staring at the ring Ichabod had placed on her finger while on bended knee after, of course, kissing her senseless. Ass.

“So, Abs – you’re happy?”

“Very” Abbie beamed, “How did Ichabod rope you into this?”

“He didn’t. You’re my sister. He said you would want me here and that was it.” Jenny leaned over to whisper, “Although Crane is on some CIA-ish. There are governments that wouldn’t have been able to contact me where I was, but he did.”

Jenny looked over Abbie’s shoulder to see Frank Irving exit his car. It had been months since they’d laid eyes on each other, but Jenny still felt her pulse quicken – just a little. Fine, a lot.  But it couldn’t be helped…he was after all, a great fan of Miss Evelyn’s pies.

“There’s my ride for the night – literally,’ Abbie rolled her eyes as Jenny hugged her, “I love you, sister and nothing makes me happier than knowing you’re happy. See you tomorrow.”

Jenny turned to hug Ichabod, much to his surprise, “You pulled it off, Crane. Make sure you don’t fuck it up.”

“I shall do my best not to,”

“Good.” Jenny punched him lightly on the shoulder, waved to Abbie and went to meet Frank at his car.

Abbie shook her head affectionately at her sister.  They had been through so much, but they would always have each other.

“Ok, Ichabod Crane. I have two questions.”

“Yes, my love.” Ichabod stood with his arms crossed, absolutely tickled at the adorable, consternated look on her face.

Abbie pushed up her glasses and ticked off the first question with her hands, “Where and when did you learn how to sing? I love you, baby, but that song – that voice – was not there a month ago. Spill.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out. I knew my voice was not up to the task, so I sought out a local teacher to help me.”

“Vocal…of course.” Abbie realized, remembering pointing out the voice instructor to Ichabod on their first date.

“Yes, she was most committed once I told her my plans. She is a closet romantic…and Mr. Sandwich Bae is still an idiot. But nevertheless, she worked with me on getting the song just right. I could not have done this without her excellent instruction.”

“Well, you should send her some flowers. I was so busy being wowed by how good you sounded, I missed what you were actually doing.” Abbie laughed, “Now for my second question: where did you get this ring? It’s so beautiful but it looks old.” Abbie held her hand up to the light, admiring the diamond and emerald ring in the gold setting with filigree all around it.

“It was my maternal great-grandmother’s ring. My mother wanted you to have it – if you liked it.”

“I love it, but she sent this ring in the mail?”

“No she brought it to me.”

“What?” Abbie was confused. She didn’t think Helena had visited since Christmas.

“When they came to visit for the Christmas holiday, mum brought the ring with her and gave it to me with instructions not to wait too long to propose – lest I muck it up. She suspected you were the one for me and spending time with you confirmed it.” Ichabod grinned remembering his conversation with his mum at the ski resort.

“That sounds like your mother – the muck it up part.”  Abbie chuckled lightly.

Ichabod brought his arm around Abbie’s waist and lifted her left hand to his lips, “Shall we go home and get warm, Miss”…kiss…“Grace”…kiss…”Abigail”…kiss…”Mills”

“Crane” Abbie finished as her right hand brought Ichabod’s lips to hers for a soft, loving kiss. “I like the sound of that.”

 


	9. The Green Eyed Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichabod and Abbie are very happy together but what happens when someone comes along that reveals a crack or two in their relationship? This is angsty-smut. Mistakes are my own. Enjoy and let me know what you think!

While FBI Agent Daniel Reynolds watched Abbie from the front of the room, Ichabod Crane watched him from his seat in the back.

Ichabod had come to the Sleepy Hollow Library community event introducing the new director of the neighboring FBI Field Office to support his intended.

Things were going well for them: they were now living together in her house - waking up next to Abbie everyday was heavenly. They’d even decided that birth control was no longer a concern so close to the wedding, eager to start their family.

On the work front, Ichabod had recently been granted tenure and Abbie received a well-deserved promotion and was now the Head Librarian, overseeing all aspects of operations. It was her idea to invite the new director, sight unseen.

And what a sight he was, Ichabod thought bitterly. He was nearly as tall as himself, but with far more muscle. He was smoothly dark-skinned and well-groomed. He was charming and obviously intelligent…and clearly, to Ichabod’s eyes, enamored with Abbie.

Ichabod wanted to snap the man’s neck.

It certainly wasn’t Abbie’s fault that the man’s eyes followed her admiringly as she settled patrons into their seats, making certain that accessibility for the disabled patrons was maintained. And it certainly wasn’t her fault that her pencil skirt skimmed her perfect bum and her sweater set tucked in at the waist emphasizing her curves even more, nor that a few tendrils of her curly hair had escaped her bun, sitting enticingly on the back of her neck. Damn, but did the man have to be so obvious in his regard?

Across the room, Abbie was not clueless about Agent Reynold’s appraisal. She’d felt the pull of his charisma even over the phone as they made arrangements for this event. He was intelligent and witty, with an interesting background. Georgetown undergrad, followed by NYU Law and a few years in the Chicago police department before being accepted into the FBI. And even Abbie had to admit, upon meeting him in person that, under different circumstances, she would have considered letting him park his shoes under her bed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the “different circumstances” arrive and take a seat at the back. Ichabod had come to support her first big event since her promotion. As she was working, he didn’t expect her attention, but she was grateful to have him there all the same, even with Daniel Reynolds making it pretty plain that he wanted more than just for the event they’d planned to go smoothly.

Ichabod watched as Abbie moved to the front of the room to stand next to Agent Reynolds.

_They look very good together _, he thought suddenly. _That man could probably be elected president with a woman like Abbie at his side. Michelle to his Barack.___

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Ichabod pushed down the sudden feeling that Abbie _deserved _a man like Daniel Reynolds by her side. _Not as long as I draw breath, one side of his brain declared against the traitorous other.___

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Agent Reynold’s thanked Abbie for her introduction and gave a talk that was smooth, informative and entertaining. He smiled frequently while maintaining an air of command born more of his person than his position. After he finished and the room emptied, Ichabod waited just outside the meeting room door to congratulate Abbie on a successful maiden event. He was not easedropping he told himself, barely swallowing the lie.

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“Agent Reynolds, thank you so much for the talk today. I think it was very well received.”

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Danny Reynolds smiled his best smile and took his shot.

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“Well, maybe we can debrief over coffee?”

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“Agent Reynolds, that’s a nice offer-“

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“Danny. Please.”

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“Agent Reynolds” Abbie emphasized, “I’m sure you’re a great guy, but -“

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“One cup of coffee…what’s the harm?”

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“What’s the harm? I’m getting married in two months.” Abbie said, pushing up her glasses in her agitation.

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Danny took two steps back. “Really? I didn’t see an engagement ring.” He was telling the truth. When he met Abbie, the first thing he did was look for a wedding or engagement ring and was surprised at how excited he was to find neither. A woman like Abbie Mills didn’t come along everyday. For the first time in a long time, Danny Reynolds saw a future that could include a wife and kids.

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Abbie held up her left hand, showing off the demure emerald and diamond ring that Danny had dismissed as a family heirloom.

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“I see. Well, if your fiancé ever gives you cause to break things off -“

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“That is highly unlikely.” Abbie heard Ichabod say from the door, clearly incensed.

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She turned to him and Ichabod saw her shock as well as the less than impressed look on Agent Reynolds’ face. Reynolds stood just over Abbie’s right shoulder like he belonged there. Maybe he does, his treacherous brain whispered. Giving one last glance at the pair, Ichabod turned and left, suddenly unable to breath.

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“Ichabod,” Abbie called out to him in the parking lot, hoping to stop his long strides heading to his car. She’d never catch up given the height difference, even with the heels she wore. “Ichabod, please stop!”

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He stopped abruptly and turned, the anger rolling off him in waves.

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“Tell me something Abigail…”

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_Abigail? _Abbie stopped short, scared for the first time in their relationship. He never called her Abigail.__

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“How is it that Agent Reynolds didn’t know you are engaged?”

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Abbie was at a loss for words, unable to think of anything that would hold off Hurricane Ichabod. “I…I don’t know. You obviously heard him. He didn’t recognize my ring as an engagement ring.”

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“True enough, but you’ve been planning this event for two months. Speaking with he and his office regularly. Isn’t that correct?”

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“Yes.”

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“So there was no mention of me? Wedding planning? Nothing, Abigail, not even in casual conversation? Or is it that you didn’t want him to know?”

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“That’s not fair, Ichabod. I don’t spill my business. He and I are not friends. I had no reason to tell him but when I had a reason I did. I’m not the bad guy here!” Abbie felt on the verge of tears but she’d be damned if they would fall.

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“Perhaps you were unaware of what signals you were sending. After all, you and Agent Reynolds have a number of things in common.” Abbie could see that Ichabod’s temper was being burned away, somewhat revealing the hurt underneath.

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“What things? Do I look like I want to run off and fulfill a life-long ambition to be an FBI agent?”

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“No, it’s far more than that…you have…similar experiences and backgrounds.” Ichabod’s words were clipped, his accent had never been sharper.

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“What because we’re both American or…” suddenly it clicked, “because we’re both Black. You think he and I would be better together because we’re both Black.” Abbie was appalled at how much sense this now all made.

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“It’s not that simple. You’re both good-looking, charming, intelligent people. You look good together. Objectively, you and he fit. Perhaps subconsciously, you were drawn to that.”

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“I can’t believe this! Yes, he’s a smart, good looking guy, but -“

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“And obscenely interested in you.”

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“I wouldn’t say that…” Abbie was desperate to fix this and tried to joke, “He wouldn’t have visited the library trying to reason out my name.”

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“No, he would have asked you directly like any sensible, confident man interested in a woman.”

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“Ichabod, please…”

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Abbie could see him bristling at her plea for understanding. “I must return for office hours. Goodbye, Abigail.”

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Ichabod got into his car and drove away, leaving Abbie standing there in the hot June sun. It was the first time he’d left her without a kiss goodbye and this time, Abbie didn’t stop the few tears from falling.

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When Ichabod finally arrived home, it was very late - the house dimly lit. As he passed the dining room, he heard her.

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“Ichabod, have a seat, please.” Abbie sat at one end of the table, still in her work clothes with her feet bare. Despite his better judgement, Ichabod sat opposite Abbie at the end of the table.

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“Daniel Reynolds is a fine, Black man.” Abbie, said, her tone direct. “No doubt.”

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“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” Ichabod’s voice was dull. Cold. Hurt.

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“No. It’s to make you understand. Agent Reynolds may be all that, but he’s not _you _. I don’t get wet just thinking about his eyes.” Abbie briefly rubbed her legs together, feeling her core throb as she continued, “I don’t groan at the barest suggestion of his beard against my skin. I don’t live to take him into my mouth. The best part of any night isn’t when he takes me, making me forget my own damn name. And I know that my dream is not to see his face the first time he lays eyes on our child.”__

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Abbie moved to stand in front of him, sitting there, rigidly waiting, “There will be other men who want me, Ichabod. There will be other men I find attractive. But there will never, ever be a man I love and want the way I do you.”

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Ichabod made Abbie wait five agonizing heartbeats before leaning over and pulling her between his legs. His face still stern, he reached under her pencil skirt, pulling down her lace underwear until she was forced to step out of them. Abbie watched transfixed as Ichabod brought the desire-soaked cloth up to his nose, inhaling deeply before placing it carefully on the table.

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“You’re right about one thing, Abigail. You will never love or want another man the way you do me. I intend to spend the rest of my life making certain of it.”

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Abbie barely had time to react when in one fluid motion Ichabod lifted her skirt, put her legs around his hips and carried her to the back wall of the dining room. Abbie was thankful she never got around to hanging a picture there so she only had the wall to contend with against her back. Her “uh!” the only indication of the impact’s severity.

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Looking directly into her eyes, Crane held her up with one hand while he reached down with the other, awkwardly but quickly freeing a cock already hard with heat and determination. The harsh, almost angry look on his face made Abbie release so much wetness that she might have blushed, if she wasn’t so far beyond caring.

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Two long fingers entered her, searching and stretching, making her moan low in her throat. He withdrew and placed the fluid coated digits to her open mouth watching as Abbie sucked herself off his fingers. “Are you sure this wetness isn’t for him, Abigail?”

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“Him who?” Abbie panted.

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“Exactly.”

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Lining up, he thrust completely into her, long and hard and feeling too good for words. He immediately set to conquer, almost without mercy and bare consideration. Abbie closed her eyes at the magnificent sensation of the withdraw and attack of his cock against her walls.

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“Look at me, Abigail.” Ichabod’s tone brooked no argument and Abbie felt herself clinch around his hardness, turned on beyond sense at the command in his voice as he said her name.

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“Uh….” Abbie struggled to keep her eyes on his as he made sure to rub his cock repeatedly and firmly against her clit as he entered and withdrew.

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“Say it,” Ichabod continued his conquest as Abbie looked into his eyes and he saw it - love and lust and by God, his unborn children.

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“Abigail…say it now.” The steel in his voice had softened slightly and he was breathing hard from the pounding he was giving her, but Abbie still felt his need down to her soul.

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“I’m yours baby. I’m yours.”

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At her desperate, lust-driven words, Ichabod moved the sweater from her right shoulder and sucked on the skin there. Hard. It would leave a bruise - marking her - as his.

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Abbie was on the verge of a pleasure- pain filled climax and moaned as she felt his teeth press against the inflamed skin, “Oh God. Yes, please. More.”

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He sucked and bit harder, careening her over the edge. He felt her walls pulsing as he speed up the snap of his hips, biting at her delicate skin one final time as he came with a muffled roar.

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With more gentle care than Abbie thought she’d receive that night, Ichabod set her down to her feet. His arms still trapped her against the wall, but it felt only loving, no longer mixed with all the anger and hurt.

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“I love you so much, Ichabod.”

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“I know and I was being as insecure ass earlier. But, please, promise me something?”

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“Of course.”

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Ichabod leaned his forehead against hers, sharing breath. Sharing love.

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“If we ever have a son, we will not name him Daniel.”

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“Deal, babe. It’s a deal.”

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	10. The Sisterhood Confessional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie shares her concerns with a dear friend and comes to a realization about the depth of her bond with Ichabod.

Abbie stared up at her ceiling and huffed.

“This is ridiculous,” she whispered into her empty bedroom.

Ichabod had traveled to Boston for a history conference. He would be back tomorrow - well, today at this point. This was the third night and yet she hadn’t been able to sleep.

The bed felt too big, too empty without him and every night Abbie tossed, turned and huffed watching the minutes tick by before her body gave up and forced a few hours of sleep on her.

They were less than a month out from the wedding and Abbie’s sleep-deprived mind pushed forward a thought from the depths of her own personal hell:

_What if he doesn’t come back? How will I stop myself from going insane?_

Abbie looked over at her bedside table and saw the time: 6am. At least it’s Friday, she thought. Thankful for small favors, Abbie put on her glasses and reached for her phone to send off a text,

“Hey, do you have time for lunch today?”

The reply came back almost immediately as Abbie knew it would. Sharon was an early riser.

“Sure. Everything ok?”

“Yes. I just need to talk to a friend.”

“Regular time and spot?”

“Yes, thanks”

“No problem. See you then.”

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Abbie arrived at the diner a few minutes past noon, late because she had to help little Sophie Adams sign up for her very first library card. Signing up new library cards was one of her favorite things to do, so Abbie was in a pretty good mood.

Sharon stood up in the waiting area as Abbie entered. She considered herself a typical Irish-Catholic New Yorker, thick accent, average height with strawberry blond hair and light blue eyes. She and Abbie had been close friends for almost 13 years, having met as freshman in college. Abbie was even a bridesmaid in Sharon’s wedding to Anthony Stanziola.

The couple had been high school sweethearts (their Irish-Italian romance almost a New York City stereotype) and they would have married right after high school if their families had allowed it, so they married before the ink was dry on their college diplomas. Abbie had never seen two people more in love.

They had two children within the first three years of marriage - Abbie was a happy godmother to little Isabel…and it was Abbie who stayed at the hospital night after night with Sharon when Tony was dying from an inoperable brain tumor, finally passing away at the age of 28.

Sharon Kelly Stanziola looked closely at her friend.

“You look tired, hun.”

Abbie replied with a self-deprecating chuckle, “I am. Let’s get seated.”

They ordered their usual, turkey burgers with regular fries. When the waitress left, Sharon got right to the point, as was her way.

“What’s going on?”

Abbie released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, “How did you cope when Tony died?”

Sharon was taken aback by the question, “You know how I coped. You were there.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not being clear. I mean,  _how_  did you do it? He was the love of your life. You had plans and then suddenly…”

“He was gone and the plans with him?”

“Yeah. How did you do it?”

Sharon sighed, remembering “Honestly, that first year, I couldn’t tell you. I had AJ and Izzy to take care of, so I was on autopilot I guess - get up, feed the kids, try to remember to feed myself, go to work, come home, be there for the kids and try not to die from my grief. Rinse and repeat.”

“But it got easier?”

“Over time, it’s gotten easier. I don’t feel like I’m in a fog every day and the pain isn’t a weight on my chest, keeping me from breathing.” Sharon looked at friend. “What’s this about, Abbie?”

“Ichabod went to a conference this week in Boston…”

Sharon didn’t see the connection but she was willing to let her friend get to it. Abbie had earned Sharon’s patience tenfold over the years. “Ok.”

“And I haven’t been able to sleep without him. Like, I just have not. And it’s crazy because rationally I know it’s not true, but I can’t help thinking, what if he’s never there again? How would I begin to cope if I have this much trouble with three damn days?”

Sharon waited for the waitress to set down their food and walk away before responding.

“First of all, Abbie, you’re supposed to miss him-“

“Yeah, But I’m not supposed…”

“To need him?” Sharon continued at the shocked look on Abbie’s face, “Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve had a plan for how your life was supposed to go. I know, I’m one to talk, all things considered, but your life was always tidy, Abbie and it’s not easy to climb the walls you have around you.”

“Sharon…” Abbie didn’t like where this was going.

“Let me finish…your life has largely gone the way you planned. You wanted to be a Head Librarian by the time you were 30 and you did it. But Ichabod Crane was damn sure not in your plans. He came in and didn’t have to climb your walls - they simply don’t exist for you when it comes to him. Loving him like crazy? Easy. Knowing that you need him like you need air? Scary as fuck.”

“I hate you.” Abbie said as she reached for a fry off Sharon’s plate, having finished her own.

“Yeah, but tell me I’m wrong.”

“I…I need the Sisterhood Confessional.” The Sisterhood Confessional was a thing Sharon and Abbie started in college: being able to speak to each other with zero judgement and absolute take-it-to-the-grave confidentiality. The Catholic in Sharon loved the name.

“Granted”, Sharon said, making the sign of the cross in front of Abbie. Hey, it was part of the ritual - go with it.

“I’m afraid. Afraid he might leave me, not before the wedding but in a few years when things get hard. Maybe when kids come. Maybe he’ll just up and leave…” Abbie shrugged, unable to say the words out loud.

“Like your father did.” It was a statement, not a question. Sharon knew almost all of Abbie’s demons. The only person who knew her better was Jenny and now…maybe Ichabod.

“I heard from him you know? My dad.”

Sharon was truly surprised, “When? Why? Hasn’t it been like 20-25 years?”

Abbie nodded, “A couple of weeks ago. He never moved far. Tracked me down after seeing the engagement announcement in The New York Times.”

“What did he want?”

Abbie’s laugh was mirthless and not a little bitter, “He offered to walk me down the aisle.”

“Wow, that’s ballsy.”

“Who you telling?”

“What did you say?”

“The truth. That I had August to walk me down the aisle and even without him, I’d walk my damn self down the aisle holding on to my sister before I’d let him poison my wedding day.”

“Good for you.” Sharon took a sip of her soda, “But, Abbie, you know as well as I do that Ichabod’s not like your father.”

“Logically, yes. But…”

“Close your eyes.”

Abbie grimaced. She hated Sharon’s “visualizations” but did what she was told and waited.

“Now, try to imagine the likely scenario…hell any scenario where he walks out on you, much less you and a couple of kids - voluntarily.”

Abbie opened her eyes, “There are things Ichabod doesn’t know about me. About my mom…and my dad.”

“And you think if you tell him, he’ll leave?”

“Maybe…”

“Sounds to me like you don’t trust him.”

“What? You just said I’m crazy in love with him.”

Sharon pushed her plate of fries over to Abbie, knowing she wanted to finish them off, like always.

“I’m not talking about love. When things get hard Abbie and they will, it’s not the love that’s going to get you through. It’s the trust. Do you trust he won’t reject you or not?”

“I want to…”

“Let’s say he wants to tell you something, would you want him to trust you?”

“Yes, of course.”

“So why don’t you give him the same benefit of the doubt? Why is it ok for you that he can trust you with his heart, but you can’t trust him with yours?”

“I don’t know. I just…I don’t know.”

“Well, the wedding is in a few weeks. I think you need to tell him and find out. I have faith, though, that he’s going to come through.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then I’ve got five burly brothers who’d like nothing better than to escort the ‘Englishman who did Abbie wrong’ all the way to JFK for the first flight out.”

Abbie dipped three fries into ketchup as she laughed harder than she had all week. She knew the Kelly Brothers well. Ichabod would be a dead man walking.

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It was a beautiful July late afternoon and Abbie was sitting on her front porch in the arm chair when Ichabod pulled up in the taxi. She watched him pay the fare, retrieve his carry on from the trunk and climb the few stairs to the porch,

“Hello Treasure, I missed you so much.”

Abbie rose from the chair and took the bag from Ichabod, leaning up for a kiss.

“Are you hungry?”

“Only for your company. Leave that and sit with me. The evening promises to be beautiful.”

Ichabod led Abbie to his favorite spot on the porch, the two-seater swing. Many an evening he’d sit out there, enjoying a drink after work whilst reading. But his favorite times were when Abbie joined him, curled into his side or leaning with her head on his shoulder as she did now.

Ichabod’s sigh of contentment was deep and heartfelt.

“I will be so glad to sleep in our bed tonight.”

“Oh, why’s that?”

“I missed you. The first night, I thought my pillows were the problem and had them exchanged. The second night I realized that the missing ingredient for a good night’s sleep was you. I enjoyed the conference, but I think you’ll need to travel with me next time.” Abbie could feel his smile as he said the words.

Ichabod noted that Abbie was curiously subdued as she asked, “It didn’t bother you…that you needed me to sleep?”

“No, not at all. In the end, I found it rather reassuring, to know that even in slumber I need to be by your side.”

“Well, it bothered me,” Abbie lifted her head off Ichabod’s shoulder and reached for the wine she’d been sipping when he pulled up.

“What do you mean?” Ichabod shifted slightly to face Abbie, concern now making its way onto his face.

“I had lunch with Sharon today.”

“That’s nice. How is she?” Ichabod quite liked Sharon. She was easy-going and straight forward. He found the story of her husband tragic, but admired the way she had picked up her life for the sake of her children.

“Good. Izzy is still really excited about being our flower girl.” Abbie studied her wine as Ichabod studied her.

“Abbie….Treasure, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong…not really…I just couldn’t help thinking what if you were gone for good? Would I ever get a good night’s sleep again?”

Ichabod tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together - Abbie wondering what she would do if he were gone. Lunch with Sharon. How abnormally quiet she seemed.

“Abbie, the Buddhists have a saying – Life is uncertain. Death is certain. What they mean is that what will happen in life is never clear, but death is a reality for us all. I want nothing more than to grow old with you, but if I am taken young, I want you to know that how much I love you will be my last conscious thought.” Ichabod took her hand in his, meaning every word.

Abbie finished off the wine and put the glass on the railing, “Honestly, I wasn’t even thinking about that. I mean, I know life is unfair – that we can leave the house in the morning and not come home. I don’t know two people who deserved to grow old together more than Tony and Sharon and look what life did to them…”

“Then what is it, Abbie?” Ichabod was truly concerned now. Something was terribly wrong and he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Abbie felt her heart speed up and her breathing quicken. She had to trust, but more importantly, she had to know she could trust.

“When my father left us, my mother couldn’t cope.”

“What do you mean?”

“She left us right along with him. Jenny was too young to really remember – at least I hope so, but Mama stayed in bed for days on end. We fended for ourselves more often than not – I tried to take care of Jenny as best I could. I tried to take care of Mama too, but she was so unhappy…I think…I think she might have had some type of breakdown. I can’t say she ever really recovered.” Abbie wiped a tear she couldn’t keep from falling, the pain was too much to contain, “I feel like my mother died long before her body gave out.”

“Oh, Treasure, I am so sorry.” Ichabod felt his eyes tear up. His Abbie, she really was a warrior.

“The things is, I’m so much like her. I know it. What if something happens with us and I can’t cope? What if we have kids and I break down like she did?”

“Are you concerned that you may have a predeposition towards mental illness?”

Abbie took a deep breath and released it, “Yes.”

“My mother, as you know, is a professor of Psychology, so I am not going to dismiss or demean your concerns. All I will say is that we should speak with her and whoever else she recommends. If your concerns are founded, then so be it. We will do what is medically necessary to address it. Either way, we face it together.”

“This doesn’t bother you? I mean, we want to have kids.”

“What bothers me is that you were carrying this burden by yourself. What bothers me is that you think I would abandon you to your fears. I am an Englishman who has found his soulmate. We practically invented stick-to-it-ness.” Ichabod smiled and was thankful – so thankful, when Abbie returned it, even if just a little.

“There’s something else I need to tell you.” Abbie put her head back on Ichabod’s shoulder, watching the sun start to go down. He immediately felt better and leaned into her touch.

“Yes, Precious.”

“I heard from my father a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because your parents…they are so great and drama-free. I didn’t want to think about what you would say about my father contacting me after 20 plus years thinking he could waltz back into my life…our life…like nothing had happened.”

“Well you don’t have to think about what I’d say. I have one question: do you want your father in our life?”

“No.” Abbie was firm, “I can forgive him for what I went through. I can’t forgive him for what Jenny went through. I don’t care what kind of excuse or rationale he might have. We were children and he abandoned us.”

Ichabod stood, reaching for Abbie’s hand. “Very well. He is not welcome. The sun is almost down. Would you like to go out to dinner?”

“Sure.” Abbie took his hand and was walking in front of him toward the front door when she felt him stop. Abbie turned slightly back and saw her arm extended between them

Her face held a question. He answered by bending his head to bring his lips to her hand, kissing her firmly for several seconds and then reverantly cupping her hand against his cheek and lips. Abbie was entranced as he whispered against her skin,

“I, Ichabod Charles, take you, Grace Abigail, to be my lawfully wedded wife. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”

Ichabod lowered Abbie’s hand but still held it, “Grace Abigail, do you accept my pledge? Do you trust my vow?”

Abbie closed her eyes, searched her heart and whispered back “Yes. Yes, I do. Now I know.”

“Know what?” The air around them had become still. Sacred.

 Abbie looked into Ichabod's eyes and saw all of their lifetimes together, “That even death won’t part us.”


	11. The Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie and Ichabod get married and romance is in the air for several other couples. Fluffy smut warning ahead!! Mistakes are my own as always. Thanks so much for reading and comments are always appreciated.

“Mr. Crane.”

“Yes, Mrs. Crane?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Ichabod looked over at Abbie,  _his wife,_ as the town car sped them to New York City. The wedding and reception had been everything Ichabod had ever desired for this day. Abbie was resplendent in a full length off the shoulder dress with lace three quarter sleeves. August Corbin proudly walked Abbie down the aisle. Ichabod knew that in the older man’s heart, Abbie and Jenny were his daughters.

For Abbie’s part, she never took her eyes off Ichabod and she floated on a cloud as the minister spoke of their love and had the couple recite their traditional vows. It was without question, the best day of her life…and it wasn’t over.

They were staying at the St. Regis for the night before embarking on a two week honeymoon to Italy. Bram van Brunt, Ichabod’s long-time friend and best man, had gifted the couple the all-expenses paid trip as a wedding present. When Ichabod protested, Bram reminded him that whilst Ichabod put his PhD in history to teaching, Bram put his PhD in computer science to start ups around the world and was now a millionaire several times over. Frankly, the gift was pocket change to Bram and he was happy to do it.

“I can not believe we are married, almost a year to the day of first meeting at the library.”

Abbie smiled sweetly over to him. “And on your birthday too.”

“Marrying you today was the best birthday present I could ever hope to receive.”

“Thank you.” Abbie turned to look out the window but was able to keep Ichabod’s hand in her lap, lightly twisting the wedding band she had placed on his finger earlier that day.

“Penny for your thoughts, Treasure?”

“I was just thinking what a wonderful day it was. We had everyone who matters to us there to celebrate. It was such a beautiful day.”

“Joe showing up at the reception must have been a great surprise.”

“Yes!” Abbie exclaimed turning towards him. Abbie was about to leave the hall to change out of her wedding dress and into her traveling clothes when she heard Jenny say, “Well, I’ll be damned!”

Abbie turned to see Joe Corbin walk in, dressed in his travel fatigues with a small duffel bag over his shoulder. Joe had said he couldn’t make it to the wedding since he would have to travel four days total just to stay for a day. Abbie had murmured her understanding and swallowed her disappointment. What she didn’t know is that while what Joe said was true, he had no intention of missing Abbie’s big day completely.

“Joe!” Abbie walked over to hug the younger man, surprised and thrilled to see him, “What are you doing here? I thought you couldn’t make it!”

Ichabod joined Abbie, putting his arm around her waist as she inspected Joe - always determined to make sure those she loved were well. Joe’s reply was profound for Abbie (and Jenny) in its implications,

“My big sister was getting married. How could I miss that?” While Abbie fought hard against the sudden tears that sprang to her eyes at Joe’s words, he turned to Ichabod, extending his hand,

“I’m Joe Corbin. You must be Crane. Welcome to the family.”

Ichabod reached into his suit jacket pocket with his right hand (as Abbie still had his left hand in her lap) and passed the linen handkerchief to her so she could wipe the tears away.

“We could have canceled our stay at the St. Regis so you could spend more time with your brother.”

_Brother_. Joe as her brother was abnew description, but it felt right. Abbie was thankful today for more than just her wedding. “No…it’s ok. He and August have a lot of catching up to do and Joe will be home for Christmas this year. So, we’ll all be together then.”

“Even Jenny?”

“If Frank Irving has anything to say about it, Jenny will be coming home for good.”

“Oh really…”

Abbie and Jenny left the reception hall so Abbie could finally change into her traveling clothes. Jenny was Abbie’s maid of honor and only attendant. Both she and Abbie had agreed that a traditional (read: butt ugly) bridesmaid’s dress wasn’t really in Jenny’s wheelhouse. So she wore a deep purple pant suit perfectly tailored to her slim figure and three inch matching heels.

“So, you’re happy Abs?”

“Very,” Abbie turned to let Jenny unzip her wedding dress. “It was good to talk to Frank for a bit today. I’m glad you let him be your plus one.”

“Well, didn’t really have much choice in that.” Jenny grumbled as Abbie stepped out of the dress.

Abbie sat down to remove the lace stockings. “What do you mean?”

“Frank…he’s just pushing for more, you know? He…he asked me to marry him, Abbie.”

Abbie kept her face neutral for her sister’s sake knowing that any indication of her feelings either way could send Jenny running.

“Wow, what did you say, Jenny?”

“I said ‘Why do things have to change?’” Jenny shrugged, “I don’t get it?”

“Do you love Frank?” Abbie asked quietly, still keeping her tone as neutral as possible. This was Jenny’s path, not hers.

“As much as I’ve ever loved anyone, I guess. But is that enough?” Jenny looked imploringly at Abbie as she put on the white halter-like top and lace overlay skirt she’d wear in the car to the hotel.

“It’s enough if you let it be Jenny. You’re always going to be you and more importantly, Frank has never asked you to be any different. I don’t think marriage will change that.” Abbie leaned over to kiss her sister’s cheek, her best friend in the world - well save one person. “Whatever you decide, you know I love you.”

“I know…alright, let’s get you in that car! You have a married life to start.”

“What do you think Jenny will do?”

Abbie sighed, “I honestly don’t know. Jenny loves Frank. I believe her. I just don’t know if she’ll get over her fear of being pinned down and take the leap. I hope she does. He’s good for her.”

Ichabod squeezed Abbie’s hand reassuringly and looked out the window as the car stopped in front of the hotel, just as the sun was going down on the muggy August night, “We’re here. Excellent.”

Abbie and Ichabod were quickly settled in their one bedroom suite. They had a living room, bedroom and one of the most luxurious bathrooms Abbie had ever seen. It was a dream.

“Ichabod,” Abbie called from beside the two person soaker tub. Ichabod had been settling the bags and came a minute later into the room.

“Yes, my treasure.”

“Our bathtub at home can’t fit two comfortably. Can we try this one before we leave?”

Ichabod’s look was searing, “We can try anything you like, my love. Anything.”

Abbie felt suddenly shy, an unexpected feeling after all they had done together but she cut herself some slack - it was her wedding night. She wanted to savor it.

“I…I didn’t eat much today. Nerves, I think. Can we order dinner?”

“Of course” Ichabod smiled indulgently. “I noticed you barely touched your salmon.” He went into the bedroom to call room service, “Let me guess: hamburger, fries and a beer?”

Abbie nodded, “Oh and Ichabod? Could you see if they have a chess set?”

Ichabod smile was happy. So very happy. “Absolutely.”

“You are still quite the formidable opponent, Treasure.” Ichabod conceded the match with a rueful smile. They had spread out on the living room floor to play while finishing their meal. Abbie had absent-mindedly stolen his fries after finishing her own. He contently looked forward to decades more of the same.

“Speaking of formidable opponents, I was happy to see Vocal brought Sandwich Bae as her plus one.” Abbie said.

“Yes and by the way he danced with her at the reception - quite gentlemanly mind you, but still rather possessive - it would seem Mr. Sandwich Bae is no longer an idiot.”

Abbie was curious, “Do we even know his actual name?”

Ichabod thought about it, “No, I don’t believe that we do. Truth be told, I suspect we’ll always call him Sandwich Bae.”

“You’re probably right.” Abbie shrugged. She was just happy to see the vocal instructor get what she deserved. The young woman had done so much for her and Ichabod, even agreeing to perform a solo during the ceremony. She sounded beautiful.

Abbie was still in her traveling clothes, but Ichabod had removed his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. Abbie licked her lips watching his forearm muscles move as he put the pieces back into position and asked her,

“Rematch?”

“Maybe later…”

Abbie looked at Ichabod and he felt his breath quicken.

“I’m just…just going to change.” Abbie quietly declared.

“Very well, Treasure.” Ichabod stood, giving Abbie his hand to help her stand. They stood facing each other for a few blessed heartbeats. They had been with each other countless times, but both knew tonight was different. The love between them - they now understood - was eternal, from the beginning to the end of time.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Abbie went to retrieve the smaller overnight bag Jenny had packed for her and went into the bathroom to change. Looking at herself in the mirror as she removed her makeup, Abbie wondered if she looked different now that she was married and had so much more to lose. “But so much more to gain, too.” she reminded herself.

This man had won her heart and her trust largely without even trying - just by being himself and perhaps his greatest gift to her - beyond even the journal - was how completely he accepted all of who she was and all that she could be. She smiled at her reflection, basking in her own happiness.

Ichabod heard the bathroom door open and turned to see her outline in the light. He was robbed of breath. Literally.

While she was changing, he had removed his suit, changed into pajama bottoms and lowered the lights in the suite. It wasn’t that late, barely past 10pm, but the night felt much later, lending a quiet and beauty that Ichabod couldn’t account for by any means except the woman in front of him. She was a vision.

“Abbie…” her name on his lips was a prayer as she moved into the room. He intended to worship her for as long as she would let him. She wore a translucent full-length robe with lace at the cuffs and the collar. The lace panel down her front covered her breasts but did nothing to conceal the outline of nipples that he longed to suckle so much his mouth watered. Under the robe, Ichabod saw the outline of the lace boy shorts. Her hair was down, a glorious crown of curls and her feet were bare. As she approached him, Ichabod was once again reminded of how tiny she was - how precious and pixie-like. So much strength in such a small package. God, how he adored her!

Abbie was silent as she approached and it was only when she could feel his body heat that she stopped, looking up into his beautiful, blue eyes. He bent, putting his arms under her knees and around her back, carrying her with ease to the bed. Abbie was touched at how gently he laid her down - like she was the most precious spun glass.

“I love you, husband.” Abbie whispered the first words she’d spoken since leaving the bathroom.

“And I adore you, wife.” Ichabod loomed over Abbie on the bed and caressed down her body until he got to her toes. “ _Such pretty little feet_ ”, he thought absently.

He bent and kissed across the bottom of Abbie’s foot. He then kissed from the heel of her left foot up to each toe. Abbie groaned low in her throat and he switched to her right foot to do the exact same thing. Satisfied that he had sufficiently worshipped that part of her body, he moved up to her delicate ankles, admiring the slender form of her bones. He reverently kissed the inside of each ankle and Abbie gasped at the feeling, then moaned. His cock, already rock hard and tenting his pajamas, responded to the sounds with a twitch.

It was Ichabod’s turn to groan low in his throat as he tasted the skin at the inside of her right ankle - smooth, soft and delicious.

Moving between her legs, he parted the robe, exhaling audibly at the acres of beautiful skin revealed. Her knees beckoned Ichabod’s kisses and he sucked lightly on the skin on the inside of each. Exquisite. Breathing deeply as he kneeled low between her thighs, Ichabod caught the hint of Abbie’s arousal.

“ _If I could bath in that smell, I would_ ,” he thought.

Reaching up, he parted the robe altogether. Abbie’s breasts were one of his favorite things in the world, if Ichabod were completely honest with himself. They were always heavy in his hands, her nipples perfect and achingly erect. He couldn’t deny himself any longer and bent over her to pull one ripe bud into his mouth. He lavished it with adoration, rolling the left nipple around his tongue before sucking hard enough to get his reward - the dulcet tones of Abbie’s soft. “Oh God, please.”

“Please what, treasure?” He murmured, “Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you. Anything.”

“Don’t stop. Please…” She begged, running her fingers through his waves, holding him to her unnecessarily. There was no place in the world he’d rather be in that moment.

 “I couldn’t stop loving you even if I wanted to.” Ichabod moved his attention to her right breast, massaging the succulent flesh while lapping at the plump, beautiful nipple.

“Please, Ichabod. Come on, baby…”

“Not yet.”

 “What? Why?” Abbie practically whined, she was so far gone.

“Because I haven’t finished worshipping you. Perhaps I never will…”

Ichabod kissed down Abbie’s torso stopping briefly at her belly button sticking his tongue in to taste the skin there. Moving lower, he lovingly, slowly removed her lace boy shorts. Her core glistened with her need and he wanted nothing more than to slowly kiss her folds open until she came apart against his mouth. He removed the scrap of cloth completely and stood to remove the pajama bottoms that were keeping his skin from being fully flush with hers.

His “I need to taste you, Treasure” was her only warning before Ichabod moved, resting her legs over his shoulders. The taste of her fed his soul and he loved how she was just before she came apart against his mouth – the trembling, the moans and the uncontrolled movements as he sucked her clit and used his fingers to massage her walls.

“Oh, don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop…oh, yes, right there. Right there. _Yessssss_ …” Abbie back arched off the bed as she came hard. Ichabod happily drank the nectar she released but was afraid he would come against the sheets, his cock was so hard.  He needed her _now._

“Abbie…” His name this time was a plea for completion. A plea for her.

“Come here, baby.” Abbie begged, pulling at his shoulders for him to come into her.

Ichabod aligned himself and pushed into her willing, warm, giving body. Once seated to the hilt, he paused briefly, wanting to imprint on his memory the exact moment when he became, finally and forever, Abbie’s husband – mind, body and soul.

________

Ichabod rolled over from Abbie, breathing heavily from the exertion of drawing out another orgasm from her while holding off his own before succumbing to the bliss. He looked over to her at his side and noticed she was slightly shivering in the air conditioned room. Bringing the covers up around them, he tucked her against him, using his body heat to warm her sweat cold skin.

“Hmmm, I love this bed.” Abbie yawned, the nerves and events of the day finally catching up with her. “We need to do something nice for Bram to thank him.”

Ichabod pulled her closer, happy that she had stopped shivering, “I think the only thanks Bram wants is a proper date with your friend Sharon.”

Abbie raised her head in surprise, suddenly wide awake again, “Really? I thought you said Bram is a player.”

“Oh, he is. After we both finished at Oxford and he started his companies, there were a long line of – shall we say – completely forgettable women. Bram is a great guy, but he always seem to be in dire need of a woman who could challenge him properly.”

“Well, that describes Sharon, but what makes you think he’s interested in her? I mean she’s great but being a young widow with two small kids hasn’t exactly brought a ton of men running to her door.”

“Oh, just something he said…”

Bram van Brunt was waiting for Ichabod and Abbie to finish with the minister so the rehearsal could begin when he turned just in time to stop the boy from running him over.

Catching him by the shoulders, Bram noted he was about eight or nine with brown eyes and a light olive complexion. “Sorry, mister”

“Not a problem. Why are you running?”

“My mom. She’s gonna kill me.”

“And you think running will improve your chances of survival?”

“Probably not. But maybe…”

“Anthony Michael Stanziola, Junior!” Bram looked up to see the blond, blue eyed beauty approach with a purposeful stride. Bram couldn’t help but notice her legs, even if they were in a church. He never claimed he wasn’t a heathen but somehow he found he wanted to diffuse the situation for the boy and his obviously irritated mother. “ _Hmm, this is new,_ ” thought Bram.

“Quickly, hide under the table!” Bram stage-whispered to Anthony. “I’ll hold her off.” AJ was happy to accept the help and moved to hide under the cloth covered table behind Bram.

The boy’s mother stopped in front of Bram and he was momentarily struck dumb. Her eyes were the color of cornflowers and when she spoke, he knew he was in serious trouble. Damn Ichabod for asking him to be his Best Man. Damn.

“Hand over the demon spawn.” Sharon said matter of factly. She was going to kill this kid.

“Beg pardon.” Bram replied smoothly. Sharon knew from Abbie that Ichabod’s best man was English like him. Sharon admitted as she admired him from afar that he was a good looking guy, but she wasn’t prepared for how drop dead gorgeous he was up close and personal. He looked to be formed by the gods, as her mother-in-law might say. Chiseled jaw, sunshine blond hair and eyes that were the bluest she had ever seen and she was Irish, so that was saying something. Sharon pushed that thought aside for later consideration. Right now, her little demon needed handling and this man was standing between her and parenting duties.

“So, there is no kid who almost ran into you, that you told to hide under the table and whose foot is sticking out from that very same table – right there behind you?” Sharon pointed to Bram’s right foot where AJ’s heel could be clearly seen. “AJ, come out _now.”_

AJ Stanziola knew that tone and left his not-so-great hiding place having decided that swift justice might be more merciful than justice delayed. “Sorry, mom.” He stood next to Bram with his head down, trying his best to look contrite to take the wind out of his mother’s sails. Bram, recognizing a good negotiation tactic when he saw one, lowered his head slightly and did the same.

“Why were you running?”

“I don’t know, mom. I got bored.”

“Bored?” Sharon eyebrow shot up and Bram really hoped the boy had a better explanation, for both their sakes.

“I…I just was thinking about when you showed me you and Dad’s wedding pictures again the other day and…I really don’t want to be here, mom. I’m sorry.”

Sharon pulled her son from Bram’s side to her chest for a hug. _He’s so like his father,_ she thought. Sensitive, but loving. “Listen, I know this is not fun for you, but Aunt Abbie asked for your help. You really want to tell her no and change your mind?”

“No…I guess not, besides somebody’s got to keep Izzy straight tomorrow.”

Sharon’s laugh was musical and laced with understanding. “That’s right and who better to do it than you? This rehearsal will be over before you know it and then we can go home.” AJ looked up at her and her soft smile was all he needed to feel better, “Go on and see what you need to do so we can get out of here.”

“Ok, mom.” Sharon watched her son approach the minister and turned back when the Englishman spoke up,

“I’m sorry. He reminded me of myself at that age and I did what I hoped someone would have done for me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sharon said easily. He certainly looked like he was a boy who got into mischief. Hell, he looked like a _man_ who got into mischief, Sharon thought, feeling some heat in her veins.

“My name is Abraham van Brunt.” Bram extended his hand.

“Well, that’s a mouthful,” Sharon replied as she shook hands politely.

“And you are…?” Bram found suddenly he didn’t want to let go of her hand. Her skin was incredibly soft.

“Sharon Kelly Stanziola.”

“Seems you know a mouthful when you hear it.” Bram replied, finally forced to release her hand. “Most people call me Bram for short.” Sharon nodded and Bram continued, “So is…AJ, is it…is he your only demon spawn?”

Sharon smiled at her own words used against her, “Nope, Izzy over there is mine as well.” Sharon pointed to the front of the church and Bram could see the bright, happy red-haired little girl sitting next to her brother on a pew. Bram’s brain recalled that she was the flower girl for tomorrow’s service.

“She’s lovely,”

“Thank you. Her father would be planning ways to keep the boys away already…or the girls, he wouldn’t have cared.” She shrugged casually.

“Would have?”

“He died…three years ago.”

“I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” Sharon always heard the trite words and the lack of sincerity underneath them. But with Bram, she believed him. He really was sorry. Sharon gave him a small smile, “Really. It was nice to meet you Bram.”

“Um…Sharon? My work often brings me to New York,” Bram internally grimaced at the half-truth. His work often took him all over the world. He came to New York City really only when it suited him or if he wanted to see Crane.

“Ok…” Bram noticed that Sharon’s face was confused, but not closed. A good sign.

“And I was wondering if the next time I’m in town, you might have dinner with me.”

Sharon took a breath, ready to recite the practiced speech she gave to every man who asked her out.  She was always vaguely surprised when she had to give it, but never surprised or disappointed at how well it worked.

“You seem like a nice guy,” Bram shifted on his feet for the coming rejection but otherwise kept his face calm. Offer and counter. He had made an opening gambit – he wanted to see what she would come back with in return.

“I met my husband when I was 14 years old. The very first day of high school. We were inseparable for the next 14 years, until the day he died. And like I said, you seem like a nice guy, but I’m sorry, if my husband were still alive, I wouldn’t give you a second thought.”

Bram was impressed. It was smooth, effective and clearly based in her truth. But he didn’t earn his millions giving up that easily. He moved two steps closer to the woman who for reasons he couldn’t quite suss out, intrigued him.

“Well, if your husband were still alive, I certainly wouldn’t expect you to give me a second look. That would be wildly out of character given the little I know of you. That being said…you still didn’t answer my question. Will you have dinner with me when next I’m in town?”

Bram was firm, yet charmingly polite. Waiting. Sharon felt the force of his personality when he stepped closer. But she didn’t feel threatened. She felt…feminine, something she hadn’t directly experienced since Tony died. Sharon was set to refuse Bram anyway when she caught sight of Ichabod and Abbie hugging out of the corner of her eye. They were alone for a moment waiting for the rehearsal to start and they looked so _happy._ Sharon was reminded of her conversation with Abbie – trust, need, walls – and decided to take a small leap of faith.

“Not dinner. Coffee. I’ll go out with you for coffee. That work for you?”

Bram wide smile made him even more gorgeous, Sharon realized belatedly. Fuck.

“Yes, that’s splendid.”

“I’ve got to get back to my kids,” Sharon stopped three steps away before turning back, “But Bram: temper expectations.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bram watched her walk away – by God, her bum would be the death of him – before retrieving his phone from his pocket to text his assistant about when he could next get back to New York. Louise would wind him up properly about this, but he didn’t care. Life had just gotten interesting again and he couldn’t wait to see what would happen next.

“Hmmm…I think Sharon and I need a Sisterhood Confessional about this.” Abbie was more relaxed than she had been in days and was almost asleep in her favorite place, tucked next to the man she loved.

“What is the Sisterhood Confessional?” Ichabod yawned as he asked, curious about this new information.

“Never you mind, husband. Never you mind.”

————

It took three buzzes of his cell phone on the bedside table before Ichabod cursed a “bloody hell,” rolled away from a sleeping Abbie, saw who was calling and sat straight up in bed,

“Dad? What’s wrong? Is mum ok?” Ichabod could only think of one reason his father would call at 6:30am on the day after his wedding.

“Your Mother is fine. She’s right here. It’s your grandfather. We don’t know where he is!” Ichabod heard the panic and fear in his father’s voice and he tried to stay calm. His grandfather was 88 years old, but still in excellent health for his age. Ichabod was sure there was some reasonable explanation.

Abbie awoke to the sound of Ichabod’s father through the phone. She sensed the growing concern from Ichabod and suddenly remembered seeing Edward Crane at the reception, _“She wouldn’t have, would she?”_ She thought to herself. The more realistic part of Abbie’s brain answered her own question: _“Of course she did.”_ Abbie threw her head back onto the pillow, momentarily stunned by the turn of events…

Miss Evelyn watched the dancing at the reception. She loved to watch people. And right now she watched a fine specimen of an older gentleman approach her table. He wore a kilt of all things and was tall, with a fully gray beard, a nicely shaped bald head (Miss Evelyn had a soft spot for nicely shaped heads of all kinds) and what the kids called swagger…and Lord have mercy, then he spoke,

“It seems that you and I are the oldest people here. My name is Edward Crane. The groom is my grandson.”

Evelyn shook the offered hand. “I’m Evelyn Johnson. Nice to meet you.” Firm grip. Callused hands. He looked like he kept himself in shape. Miss Evelyn had a moment where she wanted to hide her cane, but then she remembered, she wouldn’t need it if she was lying down.

He tucked the kilt between his legs as he sat down next to her and Miss Evelyn was reminded that traditionally men didn’t wear anything under their kilts. Lord forgive her, but she really wanted to find out if that was true – for knowledge’s sake, of course.

“I didn’t see your name listed in the ceremony program. Aren’t you Abbie’s grandmother?”

“No. Just a close friend. I was a librarian for almost 60 years, saw a lot of kids come and go, but Abbie was very special.”

“From what I see, I can imagine it.” Edward relaxed into the conversation. Evelyn was easy to talk to – a rare thing he found lately, given his age and interests.

“So, why the kilt, Ed? Do you care if I call you Ed?” She continued at the slight shake of his head, no one had called him Ed since Olivia and it felt... nice. “I thought you were English, not Scottish?”

Edward shifted slightly in his seat. Miss Evelyn tried (and failed) not to watch his thigh muscles move slightly with his effort, “Yes, well – that was to wind up my son Charles - he is my only child actually. At any rate, we Cranes are from Scotland in the very distant past. This is our tartan. Charles remarked that he thought I was just crazy enough to wear the Crane colors to the wedding. He should have known I would, as I rarely miss an opportunity to prove him right about my nerve to do something.” Edward laughed heartily and Evelyn found herself laughing right along with him. She knew exactly what he meant.

“Old ain’t dead yet, huh?”

“Indeed.”

“So, what did you do before you decided to make your son crazy?” Evelyn sipped her water, wishing for something stronger. The kids had an open bar just across the room. Bless them.

“I was an officer in the British Army for nearly fifty years. I retired as a brigadier general, but I was my happiest when I was a captain.” Edward wasn’t quite sure why he told her that about his life in the military, but he felt comfortable with Evelyn. As she said, he wasn’t dead and he still had an eye for a beautiful woman. She was slender but not frail, at least to his eyes. Her skin was stunning in both texture and color. He suspected she was in her 80s, but easily looked a decade younger and most impressively, she vibrated with vigor and life. She struck Edward as fundamentally fearless, a trait he often admired in others throughout his long life.

“So you liked being Captain Crane?” He smiled broadly at her summary and Evelyn’s breathe caught. Edward noticed and found himself quite pleased. He was, rather embarrassingly, forced to cross his legs to hide just _how_ pleased he was at her reaction to him.

“I did. Very much. I had hoped my son or grandson would follow in my footsteps but alas, it wasn’t meant to be.”

“You sorry about that?”

“Not terribly. They are happier as they are. That is what matters.” Edward noted Evelyn’s slight distaste at sipping her water.

“Would you like a drink from the bar?”

“You read my mind. I’d love one.”

Edward rose, thankful that his ‘situation’ was suitably under control for him to stand with dignity. “I’ll bring you a glass of wine.”

“Wine?” Evelyn leaned over at look up into Edward Crane’s soft brown eyes, her smirk playful, but serious.  “Ed, you come back with some brown water or don’t come back at all.”

“Brown water?” Edward chuckled, not having had this much fun in a lady’s company in years.

“And you call yourself a military man,” Miss Evelyn scoffed good-naturedly, “Whiskey. Neat. And bring two. I’m thirsty.”

Edward returned with a tray of four glasses filled with generous portions of Evelyn’s brown water, just in time to see Abbie hug the older woman with a “I love you Miss Evelyn.” before walking away.

The pair sat, enjoying each other’s company and glass after glass of whiskey. Both held their liquor well, so they were very pleasantly affected rather than drunk.

“I heard several people refer to you as ‘Miss Evelyn.’ I hope I haven’t overstepped my bounds by just using your given name?”

Miss Evelyn looked him dead to rights, “Ed, the only grown men who call me ‘Miss Evelyn’ are the ones who don’t want to sleep with me.” She watched him swallow involuntarily and raised her latest glass of whiskey in his direction, “So you tell me – you wanna call me ‘Miss Evelyn’?”

Edward raised his own glass and clinked it against her’s, matching her direct appraisal, “No, Evelyn, I don’t believe I do.”

Abbie reached for her phone and realized she had left both her phone and her glasses in the bathroom. She got up, wrapped herself in the hotel throw that had fallen on the floor last night and moved quickly into the bathroom. She could still hear Ichabod trying in vain to calm his father. Abbie was thankful she had the foresight to put her phone on the charger and after throwing her hair up in a messy ponytail, she quickly searched her contacts for the correct name.

“Abbie? Is that you?”

“Yes, Miss Evelyn.”

“You married some Good Dick just yesterday.  Why are you calling me, Baby Girl? Go back to bed and let that man keep making you forget your name.”

“Well…see..that’s why I’m calling Miss Evelyn. Would Edward Crane happen to be with you?”

Miss Evelyn chuckled happily. It had been a Good Dick night for both of them. “With me, around me and in me! Praise Jesus!”

Abbie had to cover her mouth to stifle the nervous laugh that wanted to erupt. How had this become her life?

“Well…Yes...Praise Jesus…But-“

“Don’t worry. We practiced safer sex. I get my condoms delivered twice a year direct from Amazon,” Miss Evelyn said proudly, “And I’ve got to tell you Abbie – he didn’t even have those get-it-up pills! One never knows, but I feel good in saying you’ve got decades of Good Dick to look forward to.”

“Umm…Thank you” Abbie was almost on the floor she was trying so hard not to laugh. She heard Ichabod on the other side of the bathroom door and got to the point: “Granddad Crane didn’t let his family know that he wouldn’t be home and they’re very worried about him. Would you please ask him to call his son?”

“You mean to tell me he has them worried for nothing?”

“Yes, ma’am”

“Oh, Lord take me. Men! Hold on” Abbie heard Miss Evelyn speaking to Edward.

“Ed, stop eating that pie and get over here...Yes…I have a freezer full of pies, so don’t worry about finishing that one. Abbie’s on the phone. Says your son is worried because you didn’t let them know you’d be out all night and they can’t get through to your phone...Oh, it’s dead? Well no wonder they’re worried. Look in that cabinet there – I think I have an extra charger… Yes, I know you’re a grown man and Charles worries too much but, please call the child so we can get back to our morning. I have plans for you.”

“Abbie.” Miss Evelyn had come back on the line, “you can let them know he’s not dead in a ditch somewhere.”

“Yes, Miss Evelyn.”

“And Abbie? You should probably tell them not to expect him for another day or so. That man ate an entire sweet potato pie this morning.”

“A whole pie? Ichabod only managed to eat three quarters of one.” Abbie was impressed. Genuinely.

“Well, maybe these Crane men get better with age! I don’t know. Ask Ichabod’s mother.”

At that, Abbie knew it was time to hang up. There was no way she was asking Helena Crane that question.

“I’ll talk to you later Miss Evelyn.”

“Bye Abbie. Be good and enjoy that dick.”

Abbie exited the bathroom, walked across the room and touched Ichabod’s shoulder to get his attention. “Dad, hold on." Ichabod turned to face Abbie, "What is it, Treasure?”

“I found your grandfather. He’s fine.” She said softly.  

“Oh thank goodness. Let me put you on speaker Dad. Go ahead Abbie.” Ichabod was anxious to hear the perfectly reasonable explanation for his grandfather’s absence and he was thrilled the old man was ok. 

“He…ummm.” Abbie didn’t know how to say it. He “hooked up.” Got “laid.” How do you tell you brand new in-laws something like this? Without dying, that is.

“Abbie…” Charles Crane was at the end of his patience and it showed, “please tell me what the bloody hell is going on!”

“Dad…” Ichabod’s tone held the warning – respectful but there nevertheless. No one spoke to his Abbie that way while he was around, not even his own father.

“My apologies Abbie. It has been a long morning.”

“I understand.” Abbie took a deep breath. In for a penny as the expression went. “He spent the night with Miss Evelyn. He’s with her now. His phone died. He’ll call soon.”

“Miss Evelyn? Your mentor?” Ichabod was confused.

“Yes.”

Charles Crane spoke next, “The elderly lady he was speaking to at the reception? Why on earth is he there?”

Abbie heard Helena Crane murmur a soft, “Are these two serious?” before coming closer to the phone, “Charles. Don’t be daft. What Abbie is delicately trying to say is that your father found a hook up at our son’s wedding. He spent the night getting laid.”

“What? How?...What?” Charles sputtered. Of all the crazy things that man had done since Olivia Crane, Charles’ mother died 15 years earlier, this had to take the cake.

“Are you suggesting that my 88 year old father spent the night having sex with a woman he met at our son’s wedding?”

“I’m not suggesting, dearest. That’s what happened. And you should be happy. I know I am.” Helena answered drily.

“Happy? Why should any of this make me happy?” Charles was incredulous.

“Because it bodes well for our twilight years. Now let Ichabod and Abbie go. Come back to bed and show me what I have to look forward to when we’re in our 80s.”

Abbie saw the deep blush rise on her husband’s face at his mother’s words. For his part, Ichabod watched as Abbie tried, and largely succeeded, in stopping herself from cackling from the absurdity of the situation. She stood next to him with her hand over her mouth, bent over in silent laughter.

“Mum, please…” Ichabod implored as he hoped the floor would open up and save him.

“Ichabod, you’re 34 years old. How exactly do you think you got here?” Helena asked sweetly. “Besides, I know you. You had every intention of waking your bride up with your head between her legs and now we’ve gone and ruined your morning.”

“Helena!” “Mother!” Both Crane men declared their censure. Helena was unbothered and tutted her disdain for their response to her gall.

 Abbie had moved to sit on the floor, holding herself to keep from laughing out loud.

“Ichabod, your mother and I are going to sign off now. Thank you, Abbie, for tracking down my father. I’m very grateful he’s not dead for now I’ll have the pleasure of killing him myself.”

Abbie managed a strangled, “No problem,” that didn’t quite hide her mirth. 

“You will do no such thing. He is living his life and kept, whom I suspect to be a very demanding lover, happy. You shouldn’t be killing him. You should be asking for pointers, for both you and Ichabod.” Helena Crane was devoid of all chill, more than a little annoyed that both Abbie and Miss Evelyn had been well-serviced last night whilst she had not.

“Oh, I almost forget,” Abbie spoke up, breathing through her nose to control her laughter, “He probably won’t be back until tomorrow. They have…further plans.” The blush was now at Ichabod’s hairline. Good God, his grandfather planned on being at this for _days_.

“Of course, because this couldn’t possibly get any worse.”

“Oh cut it out, Charles. Abbie…thank you my dear. I am thankful that my son had the good fortune to meet you and the good sense not to let you get away. Say good morning and good bye Charles.”

“Good Morning and Goodbye.”

“Bye Mum. Bye Dad. Glad grandfather is ok.”

Ichabod disconnected the call and looked down at Abbie lying on the floor, practically rolling around while she laughed. She gave up trying to be silent,

“Oh God…I can’t breathe…this is too much. Too much!” Ichabod couldn’t fault Abbie for the incessant cackles. Objectively, even he had to admit, “This shit was hilarious” as Miss Jenny might say. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t prepared to take advantage of the situation.

“Abbie…I think you need to be punished.”

“Punished? What for?” Abbie sat up, wiping the laughter tears from her eyes and looking at Ichabod. The blush had receded and was now replaced with a look that made Abbie shiver as he bent down, naked, to appraise her.

“You laughed at my family’s – our family’s drama.”

Abbie licked her lips, all laughter gone, replaced by heat. “Well, you’ve got to admit, the Crane Family Drama was pretty funny.”

Crane removed the blanket from around Abbie’s chest, palming her right breast and flicking at the exposed nipple. It hardened at his touch and Abbie leaned her head against the mattress in response. “So, what’s my punishment?” she asked, barely able to say the words, his hands on her felt so good.

“Oh, I think three orgasms should be sufficient for you to make it up to me.”

“You want me to make you come three times?” Abbie practically salivated at the thought.

Ichabod reached over, put his arms under Abbie’s legs and around her back, lifting her straight from the floor and striding towards the bathroom, easily carrying her slight weight.

“No, I’m going to make you come three times. That bathtub is not the only thing in there big enough for two. Let’s start in the shower, shall we?”

Abbie kissed Ichabod deeply, exploring his mouth with her tongue before pulling back, “Sounds like a plan to me.”  

 

 


	12. Donuts and Vegetables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does Ichabod react when Abbie insists on some healthier eating in their household? Spoiler - not too well. A short, but sweet bit of fluff. Enjoy and as always, mistakes are my own.
> 
> And to the ladies on twitter - you know who you are - Merry Christmas ;-)

Abbie put her hand up, shaking it back and forth vigorously, “Absolutely not, Ichabod Crane. You are not going to be the cause of this Black woman prematurely developing diabetes. Nah-uh.”

“But Treasure, it’s so good.” Ichabod implored holding up his latest “donut of the month” delivery – a perfect bacon, maple donut with just the barest hint of habanero peppers. “Just have one, Treasure.”

“No.” Abbie and Ichabod were in their kitchen, having returned from their honeymoon three days earlier. Abbie loved Italy – the architecture, the people, the museums, the history, the perfect backdrop to the mind-blowing sex. She loved _all_ of it.  What Abbie didn’t love was how their honeymoon was also the “Ichabod Crane Hunts Down the Best Desserts in Italy” Show – season one. 

“Ichabod, I gained five pounds on our honeymoon from all the food – especially the dessert tour you had us on. I need this vegetable cleanse.”

“Vegetable cleanse…” His face twisted with such disdain that Abbie would have laughed if she weren’t serious. She was not developing diabetes behind this man’s sweet tooth, dammit! “Besides, we did not go on a ‘dessert tour.’” Ichabod continued huffily.

Abbie stood her ground, crossed her arms and gave him a look.

Ichabod took a moment to admire the cleavage revealed by her movements. In a huff? Yes. Blind to his wife’s physical charms? Not in this lifetime.

“Fine, Mrs. Crane…make your case.”

 Abbie noticed where her husband’s eyes went, paused to take an extra breath for affect and made her first volley, “Venice.”

 “Whatever do you mean? We went on that lovely gondola ride.” Ichabod crossed his arms and loomed over Abbie, moving a step closer. 

 _Fine. Be that way, show off the forearm muscles. Ass_ , Abbie thought, _Two can play that game._  

Abbie pulled down slightly on her v-neck T-shirt and then crossed her arms again. Sometimes a woman needed to fight a little dirty. “Yes, which just happened to be right across from that restaurant’s tiramisu Bram said you absolutely had to try.” 

Ichabod swallowed when Abbie pulled down her t-shirt and steadied himself. The minx was not going to win this “discussion” on a technicality! That technicality being he could no longer stand because his cock had gotten so hard. Ichabod soldiered on…

“We spent half a day exploring in and around the Colosseum whilst in Rome.” 

Abbie licked her lips, leaving a shine on their plump deliciousness. _Damnation_ , Ichabod whined internally. “Yes, we did…which somehow gave you all the permission you needed to refuel at the cannoli place two blocks away. What did they have – something like ten different varieties?”

“Twelve, but that’s entirely beside the point.” Ichabod raised an eyebrow, took another step closer and looked directly into Abbie’s eyes. He knew what it would do to her, but didn’t care. His participation in her five-day vegetable cleanse was at stake. He shuddered at the very thought.

_This was war._

He was rewarded when Abbie’s breathing sped up and her pupils dilated. Of course it backfired on him, he realized too late, as her breasts were pushed up even more, commanding his admiring gaze.

“Florence. Seriously. Defend Florence…”

Abbie turned sideways to Ichabod and leaned over to rest her elbows on the island. She knew her tight black jeans made Ichabod grateful for denim. That’s why she bought them.

“The Duomo. The statue of David…” Ichabod was getting desperate. Abbie had exposed him to her secret weapon. He dug deep into his disgust of juiced vegetables to steel himself again the sight of her perfect bum.

“The extra large serving of gelato every single day we were there?” Ichabod eyes were moving from her chest to her ass and back again and frankly, Abbie didn’t care which one he attacked first, just as long as he touched something on her body soon. Her skin was on fire. She stood tall and stepped to him.

“Ichabod…”

Ichabod’s chest heaved as he lifted Abbie to sit on the kitchen island, thankfully kissing along the top of her beautiful, soft cleavage before lifting his head to kiss her mouth and concede. “I’ll do the cleanse for three days.”

Abbie reached frantically for Ichabod’s belt. It wouldn’t be the first time they didn’t make it to a bed. 

“I’ll eat half a donut.” She replied, biting lightly on his ear lobe.

Ichabod groaned at the feel of Abbie’s hand around his cock. “Well, the minister did say that compromise would be necessary for the success of our marriage and perhaps the cleanse will be good for both of us after all…”

“Ichabod…honey…shut up about the cleanse and just fuck me.”

“Oh Treasure. Gladly.”


	13. The History Department vs. The Librarian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie gets some very disturbing news about Ichabod and the two embark on a quest to defeat an evil foe. There is some pretty hefty smut and fluff in this one so - you've been warned.

Abbie raised her head at the knock on her office door.

“Hey Abbie.”

“Luke…Hey!” Abbie was surprised to see Luke Morales at her office door on a sunny August Friday afternoon. The pair had gone out on a handful of dates years ago but never really clicked. Luke had moved on (to marry Angela – his rebound from Abbie), and, career wise, up the ladder in the Sleepy Hollow Police Department, recently making Detective.  Abbie remembered reading in the local paper that he was also teaching Criminal Justice at the university.  They crossed paths every once in a while, but certainly didn’t seek each other out. Abbie wondered absently what Luke wanted. 

“I was just bringing Maria in for story time and to borrow a book and thought I would stop in.” Maria was Luke’s four year old daughter with Angela. She was already a ferocious beginner reader and Abbie not-so-secretly adored the little girl.

“I’m glad you did Luke. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know how to say this.” Luke nervously rubbed the back of his head, “Congratulations on your wedding by the way.”

“Thanks,” Abbie replied sincerely and gestured for him to take a seat. Even though she and Luke were not a good fit, she did wish him well and it was nice that he did the same for her. “Whatever it is, just say it. You know I can take it.” Abbie smile was open, but her brain was searching for what might be bothering Luke. Something was definitely going on.

“You know I teach part-time at the university?” Luke continued at Abbie’s nod, “Well, faculty talk. It’s about your husband. Scuttlebutt is he was on the fast track to be the next history department head, but not anymore.”

“Was? What happened?” Abbie knew Ichabod was granted tenure months back, but she wasn’t aware of the department head discussion.  

Luke took a deep breath and looked pained, but he had too much respect for Crane and affection for Abbie not to tell the truth.  “Because he married you.”

“Excuse me, what did you just say?” Abbie was stunned.

Luke knew his statement was ripping the bandaid off, but that’s who he was – and one of the reasons he and Abbie didn’t fit. He never knew how to say the right thing with her. Luke sighed…this was harder than he thought it would be.

“Listen, I don’t know what reason they gave him, but all of a sudden, support for him succeeding Professor Harrington went away.”

Luke Morales has faced his fair share of racism, so Abbie felt more than comfortable having a frank discussion. Sleepy Hollow University had a good regional reputation, but it was still a selective, small liberal arts college and Crane was their very definition of the type of man who should have the “expected” wife for the role of department chair.

“Is it because I’m Black?”

“Honestly, Abbie, I don’t know. I think that is part of it for somebody. But the ranks are definitely closing in on this one. If I didn’t know any better, it feels like outside forces are at work – at least that’s what my instincts are telling me. I just...wanted you to know. Maybe you can talk to Crane about it? See what he thinks?”

Abbie contemplated how to approach this with Ichabod as soon as possible. “Thank Luke. I really appreciate you telling me.”

“Whatever is going on, it’s not fair to Crane. He’s a great historian and a very good teacher. He also has ideas about how to teach American History that I think are good. Not everything in Revolutionary America is about the white dudes on the money. Crane gets that.” Luke stood up to leave,”I just hope he gets a fair shot, you know?”

Abbie walked around her desk to see Luke to the door, “Don’t worry Luke. I’ll make sure he does. You’re right. He deserves it.”

——————

 

Abbie sautéed the chicken and vegetables for dinner. They were having fajitas and Ichabod was due home any minute. They’d been married for almost four weeks, but since they had lived together for several months prior to the wedding, there wasn’t a whole lot of settling in to do when they returned from Italy.

Abbie still wasn’t pregnant, which was starting to worry her - they certainly “practiced” enough over the last several months. But then, she enjoyed just being with Ichabod and knew becoming parents would change things. Patience in this case, was a virtue.

Speak of the devil, Abbie heard Ichabod at the front door from her spot in the the kitchen. “Treasure! I’m home.”  Ichabod came striding into the kitchen, put down his leather satchel and immediately put his arms around Abbie from behind, dipping to nuzzle at her neck with soft kisses.

“Umm, cooking here.” Abbie protested half-heartedly. His kisses after a long day at work never failed to make her happy. Abbie hoped they never would.  

“And what are we having for evening meal tonight?” He asked, still kissing softly up get neck.

“Fajitas…if you let me cook it. Go do something with yourself until it’s ready.”  Ichabod backed away, only slightly disappointed. He loved when Abbie made fajitas. “I have some work to do on my fall semester syllabus.” 

“Good. Go do that. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”  Ichabod picked up his satchel and went back to the office they had created for him in what used to be Abbie’s back sun porch. It wasn’t ideal – he shared space across from the laundry area, but it was heated and comfortable with a nice view of the backyard. He had no complaints.  Ichabod had far too many books for the room, so most of his collection was in boxes in the basement. They planned to finish that space in a few years so he could have a proper home office and space for the collection.

Most nights they ate at the island if they didn’t have company. They liked sitting near each other, slightly hunched over the stools, sharing details of their day. If Abbie cooked, which she did most nights, Ichabod cleaned the kitchen while Abbie kept him company or read in the living room. Some evenings they’d play chess or video games. To Abbie’s chagrin Ichabod was a serious gamer. Ichabod discovered to his chagrin that Abbie wasn’t, but somehow managed to beat him anyway.

Their evenings at home almost always ended with soft kisses, roaming hands and more. Their sex life was vigorous to say the least, especially now that Abbie had almost perfected Miss Evelyn’s sweet potato pie recipe. She might not believe that Miss Evelyn’s pie came from the “Jesus of that Good Dick” but Abbie was also no fool. Ichabod loved those pies and when she baked them, he loved on Abbie even more.

Tonight was different, Abbie knew. She had to talk to Ichabod about her conversation with Luke. If he kept this from her – was keeping this from her, Abbie felt it would cause problems for their marriage down the line. They had to be honest with each other or the world would tear them apart. 

“Dinner’s ready,” Abbie called after finishing the sauté, warming the flour tortillas and setting the places at the island.

Ichabod came back into the kitchen, eager to fill his plate with the perfectly seasoned chicken slices, peppers and onions. The shredded cheese, guacamole and sour cream were on the island – as were two bottles of their favorite beer.

“Abbie, Treasure, this looks and smells delicious. I’m starving!”

Abbie chuckled, “You’re always starving.” 

“Well, it takes a lot of energy to keep up with you,” Ichabod reached over, pulling Abbie closer to him and kissing her quickly before turning back to his plate. 

Abbie’s giggle was music to his ears, but she quickly sobered.  “Listen, Ichabod. Crane. There’s something we need to talk about.”

Ichabod slowly lowered his fajita. Oh dear. Abbie rarely called him Crane – he could count the number of times on one hand _. This can’t be good,_ he thought.  His response was uncertain, “Yes.” 

“I don’t know how to say this nicely, so I’m just going to say it.” Abbie took a breath, her dinner untouched. “Were you in the running for History Department Chair and then taken out of the running because of me?”  Ichabod felt himself blanch. Abbie saw him go pale and had her answer. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It…didn’t…matter,” Ichabod stuttered. “It doesn’t matter. They had to give me tenure. That ensured my employment with the University and our future here in Sleepy Hollow. The rest is…” Ichabod waved his hand helplessly, not wanting to further expound on something he would rather not discuss. His goal in life was to love and protect his Treasure, even if it meant sacrificing his career.

Abbie put her hand on Ichabod’s, leaning over to look at him. He saw her sincerity even behind her glasses. “The rest is very important. Life, this world, our jobs…all of it is going to test the strength of our marriage. We are a team, you and I. Our bond – our love – is eternal. But that doesn’t mean we can keep things from each other. Your work is too important.”

“Abbie…I’m just a history professor.”

“No, you’re not. How many history professors studying the revolutionary war and its aftermath have given serious, long-term study to the primary role women and people of color played in the founding of this country?” 

“I don’t know that it matters…” 

“I do. It matters. Do you know how many people in this country believe that we are a country not only _founded_ _by_ but _founded for_ white men and that is the way it should always be? Your work directly challenges that idea,” Abbie was impassioned. Ichabod was enthralled. “Imagine how much more you could do as Chair of the History Department? Undergrads. Graduate students. Participating and maybe even influencing the very national discourse of what constitutes the _actual_ history of America, not just what the patriarchy needs it to be to retain power.” 

Ichabod gazed at Abbie. He didn’t think it was possible to love her more, but he did. She was amazing. His wife. He truly was the luckiest man alive. 

“I know it’s not fair, but I don’t know how to fight this Abbie. I tried everything I can think of.” Ichabod really had. He knew precisely when things had taken a turn for the worse. It couldn’t be just coincidence. 

“There are two things I know, Ichabod Crane. First: you and I will always be stronger and better together than apart. No more secrets? Agreed.”

“Agreed.” Ichabod smiled gently. “What’s the second thing?”

Abbie’s face was determined. She was a force of nature when it came to the people she loved and there was no one she loved more than Ichabod.

“There is _always_ another way.” She kissed him lightly on the lips, “Now, let’s eat. We’ll need to fuel up for the fight.” Abbie turned to tuck into her meal. “Tell me exactly what Chair Harrington said about why you were no longer in the running. Don’t leave anything out…”

————

The next morning while Ichabod was at the market, Abbie made a phone call. 

“Hello, Edward Crane speaking.”

“Hello, Granddad. It’s Abbie.”

“Abbie. How nice to hear from you. Is everything alright with Ichabod? It isn’t Evelyn, is it?” Edward’s question betrayed his anxiety. He had not seen Evelyn since their marvelous two days together a few weeks back, but he found himself thinking of her constantly. 

They had left things “casual” as she had called it. But Edward Crane had never been casual a day in his life – not about the things and people that mattered to him. He knew, deep in his heart, that Evelyn Johnson mattered quite a bit.

“No, no everyone is fine. I have a question for you?” Abbie was hesitant. This was not something you just ask your in-law, unless he happened to have spent 50 years in the military.

“Yes, go on.” At the other end of the line, Edward settled into his favorite chair in the parlor. He had just come in from a nice, early afternoon walk and had been about to make lunch. He wished he had some of Evelyn’s pie for dessert. He wished he had Evelyn for dessert.

“When you were developing your strategy for a military campaign, what were your first considerations?”

Well, that wasn’t the question Edward was expecting, “Why do you ask Abbie?”

“I’m…I’m trying to help Ichabod. I read Sun Tzu a number of years ago, but figured getting your thoughts would be good.”

“Well, certainly The Art of War is an excellent starting place for any strategic thinking exercise, military or otherwise. Eisenhower is another good general to study as well.”

“Let’s start with The Art of War. How did you apply it?”

"The most important thing is to understand yourself – what are your strengths? Vulnerabilities? Do you have an advantageous position for the coming battle? Can you adjust the position or not? If so, what will that take? If not, how will your resources, particularly manpower, be impacted?”

“Ok” Abbie was taking furious notes. Thinking about how to apply it to their situation with the History Department.

“The next is to know your enemy. Now, this is important Abbie. When I say know, I don’t mean in a superficial manner – I mean deeply. What are their strengths? Weakness? Position on the battlefield? Interests? Motivations? Friends? Enemies? All of it will come into play if there is any hope of winning.”

“Makes sense.”

“This is all planning and that is where both Sun Tzu and Eisenhower, I found, were the most correct in their thinking. Both understood that battles are won and lost in the planning stages first. Win…and then go to war.”

“Sun Tzu.” 

“Plans are useless, but planning is indispensable.” 

“Eisenhower?” Abbie smiled. She really liked Edward Crane. He was her kind of people.

“Yes. Exactly. Now, young lady, do you want to tell me what this is about?”

“Maybe after it’s over. I really appreciate you... I can’t tell you how it’s helped me.”

“You make my grandson’s face light up just to look at you, Abbie. You’ll always be welcome to any and all help I have to offer. You’re my family now, just as much as he is.” Edward replied gently and sincerely.

“Thank you.” Abbie never had a grandfather. She choked up a bit to realize that she did now. Amazing

“Abbie…may I ask you something?”

“Sure. Shoot.” Abbie put down her pen and leaned back in the dining room chair, ready to give Edward her full attention.

“It’s about Evelyn…” Edward began awkwardly.

“Oh.” Abbie felt her face heat. It was one thing to know about their time together. It was another – a few weeks removed – to talk to her grandfather-in-law about it, “Ok. Go ahead.”

“I feel that Evelyn and I have more to explore in our relationship, such as it is. How would you recommend that I go about courting her?”

“You’re serious about this?” Abbie sat up in the dining room chair, no longer relaxed.

“How serious was my grandson when he decided he wanted to court you?”

“Well…”

“Where do you think he gets it from?” He asked – always direct.  Edward Crane was a patient, methodical man. He had to be for his military career to flourish as it had. But he was also a man who was married for nearly 50 years and had not met a woman worth his time again until Evelyn. He was 88 years old. His goal was marriage. There was no time to waste. 

“Honestly, Miss Evelyn’s a tough nut. She decided a long time ago that she didn’t want to get married…and I haven’t seen anything to make me think she’s changed her mind.” Abbie wanted to help Edward – she though Miss Evelyn and he were adorable together. But she also didn’t want to see anyone get hurt.

“I understand her hesitation. Most men have probably not been worth her time. I am not most men. What strategy do you feel would be most effective?”  Edward reached over to the side table drawer where kept a small pad and pen. He sat, the mobile phone tucked against his shoulder, ready to take notes. 

 _Wow,_ Abbie observed _, Ichabod really does get it from his grandfather._

“Ok, first you’re going to have to show her you can fit into her world. She’s not giving up church for anyone.”

“Done. What else?”

Abbie tapped the pen against her lips, “I think winning over Miss Evelyn is going to be a matter of not giving her any real choice but face her feelings. If there’s a way out, she’ll take it. She tasted the beef, now you’ve got to convince her to buy the cow. Does that make sense?”

“Yes…yes it does.” Edward scribbled on his note pad in neat block letters:

  * Fit into her world (move to America, of course)
  * Assertive, but not aggressive pursuit – make intent clear.
  * Deny her sexual favors until she agrees to terms (marriage)



“Thank you Abbie. This has been extremely helpful. I think I need to book a flight back to Sleepy Hollow.”

“You’re welcome to stay with us.”

“That’s very kind of you Abbie. But, I’ll stay in hotel or Airbnb. I remember what is was like to be newly married. You don’t need me hanging around interrupting things… as it were.”

Abbie laughed slightly, “Ok. But you’re always welcome. And Good Luck with Miss Evelyn.  I’m rooting for you.” 

“As I am rooting for you. Talk soon, Abbie.”

————

 

When Ichabod arrived home from the market, he saw Abbie in the dining room hunched over her laptop with papers in neat piles around her. There was even a large bulletin board propped up against the wall. _When did we acquire that?_ he thought absently.

“Treasure? What’s all this?” Abbie turned around in the dining chair, her glasses perched on the tip of her nose, a pencil sticking out of her high ponytail and another between her luscious lips. She wore his favorite clothes – one of his old t-shirts (this one said Balliol– his college at Oxford) and tiny shorts that showed off her legs to perfection. He even admired her toes, painted a perfect pale pink.

“Research. I’m not a librarian for nothing. If information is published anywhere, I can find it.”

Ichabod put the fruits and vegetables he’d gotten at the market down by the entrance to the dining room. The new houseplants would be fine in the car for a bit. Ichabod had managed to kill all of Abbie’s houseplants within the first few months of moving in. He knew she liked having plants around, so he decided to surprise her with new ones. They would be a succulent family now.

“Research about...?”

“The History Department. Sit and help me. Two heads are better than one.”

Ichabod stood over Abbie’s shoulder to see what she had discovered in his absence.

“Ok. Now you said Professor Harrington told you that there was concern about your ability to fundraise for the university.”

“Yes, which frankly I took to be about you. Peter and his wife Claire are fixtures as various functions with alumni. Perhaps they thought we – as a couple – would be less palatable to the alumni most likely to give?”

“When exactly did this conversation happen again? 

“Early June. Right after I was granted tenure. I knew I was under serious consideration to become the new Chair when Peter retires. He and I had even discussed what assignments and grooming I would need. It was a strange conversation, thinking about it again. He seemed almost hesitant – embarrassed even.” Ichabod moved to sit next to Abbie, absently picking up a sheet of paper with a name written across the top.

“Who is Dennis Smythkowski?”

“He has been the top donor at Sleepy Hollow U for the last five years.” Abbie pulled up a picture of the plain-looking, dark-haired white man who looked to be in his late fifties.

She continued, reciting her research “He graduated 30 years ago with degrees in Economics and History. Went to work on Wall Street. Made it to the top of the most competitive venture capital firm before starting his own. He’s donated millions to different departments.”

“And you’re thinking the History Department is next?”

“Stands to reason.” Ichabod slid the laptop over to conduct more research on Mr. Smythkowski, “Interesting…” 

Abbie looked up from her notes, “What?” 

“This is an interview he gave about seven years ago. He talks extensively about how he beat out all these Ivy League educated colleagues and his education had been just as good, if not better. He goes on to talk about his plans to support Sleepy Hollow’s expansion efforts.” 

“So, he’s got a chip on his shoulder? Something to prove.”

“It would seem so,” Ichabod agreed, “But something isn’t right about this. Mr. Smythkowski came from nothing. Working his way up through a cut throat business to the very pinnacle of success. Forgive me for saying so and perhaps once again revealing my privilege, but he doesn’t strike me as the type of man who would care if the History Chair’s wife is Black.”

“Ummm…Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s something else.” Abbie’s eyes lit up with an idea, “Look up his family. Is he married?”

Ichabod did as asked, “He is married...to Paula. Two children. Both grown. One brother. One sister…oh no. Oh no.” Ichabod sat back in the chair, covering his eyes as he groaned. They were doomed. 

Abbie looked over at the laptop to see the smiling, oily face of Dennis’ sister – Standra Hands.  “Well, now we know why you were taken out of the running,” she replied drily.

“Is it odd that I am relieved to find the motivation was petty revenge and not racial?” Ichabod asked, moving one hand away from his face to look at Abbie.

“I wouldn’t go that far. It might bother the hell out of her that you’re married to me for just that reason.”

“Well, Treasure, as you say – there’s always another way. We just need to find it.”

“And we will. This bitch came for the man I love and then she came for his career. She wants a fight – I say we bring her one.”

———

 

Abbie put the finishing touches on her hair and makeup. Her hair was down with a small tortoise shell comb pinning up one side. Her eye makeup was heavier than normal to be seen behind her glasses and her lips were neutral. _This Fenty lip gloss looks good on everybody,_ Abbie thought, admiring the dark gray, sleeveless sheath dress and black kitten heels she wore. She finished off the look with a string of collar-length pearls and pearl drop earrings Jenny had gifted her after a “particularly successful job” in Shanghai. Abbie didn’t ask. She learned not to years ago.

“You look stunning, Treasure.” Ichabod came up behind his lovely bride looking at her in the full length mirror that stood in the corner of their bedroom. Abbie noted Ichabod’s dark blue suit and brightly colored purple and blue tie. The tie brought out the color of his eyes, making them look especially blue. He also had both his hair and beard trimmed, the slightly shorter cut highlighting the waves in his hair. He looked confident and gorgeous. As he put his arms around her waist, Abbie was struck by how _good_ they looked together. Even she had to admit, they were a striking couple. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Mr. Crane.” Abbie placed her arms over Ichabod’s where they rested on her waist, hugging him to her, “You ready to do this?” 

“As ready as I’ll ever be, Mrs. Crane.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

Their destination for the evening was the History Department Social, an annual party The Harringtons threw for all the department’s faculty and their partners at the start of every academic year. This was the first time Abbie was attending and her first time meeting Ichabod’s colleagues. At Ichabod’s urging, Peter had invited prominent alumni of the department as a good will gesture, knowing that Dennis Smythkowski would be at the top of the invitee list.

“So, we know he’s going to be there?” Abbie looked across at Ichabod as he drove her car. It was a paradox of their relationship: Abbie, tiny pixie princess, drove an SUV the size of a small house. Ichabod, tall and lanky, happily squeezed behind the wheel of a mid-size sedan, although he did enjoy the extra comfort of Abbie’s car.

“Yes, he will be there. He confirmed him and his wife’s attendance.”

“And you’re sure his wife never audited your classes.”

“Yes, I’m sure. It was only Standra and her friends. I would have recognized Paula Smythkowski’s name immediately.”

Ichabod pulled into a parking space a few doors down from Peter and Claire’s Tarrytown house and turned off the car.  “Ok, we good with the plan?”

Ichabod reached in the back seat to grab Abbie’s shawl and small clutch, “Yes, I believe we can do this.”

Abbie leaned across the center console to kiss Ichabod, taking his face in her small hands. “We can do anything, baby, as long as we stick together. We’re a team.”

“And I am so grateful for it.”

————

 

“Yes, we both did the cleanse. Of course, I barely lost the five pounds I needed to lose. This one,” Abbie gestures across the room to Ichabod, “loses six pounds he didn’t need to lose in a fraction of the time. If I didn’t love him so much, I’d hate his guts!”

Abbie laughed along with the group. In her foursome was were two of Ichabod’s colleagues, as well as Claire Harrington and Paula Smythkowski. The introductions went smoothly and Abbie made small talk as she waited for her opening – a chance to speak to Paula alone. She had done her homework on the older woman and especially her relationship with her sister-in-law. 

Paula excused herself and moved over to the bar. Abbie made quick eye contact with Ichabod. He was currently impressing the hell out of Dennis Smythkowski, just as they planned. 

Abbie moved to stand next to Paula, “How are you enjoying the evening?”

“It’s very nice. Dennis and I like having relationships with the faculty.”

“Really. Have you audited any of the courses?”

“No, I haven’t but I think that might be fun. If the class was challenging enough. I’m not interested in fluff.”

Abbie laughed, “I understand. No need to waste time. You should audit one of Ichabod’s classes. He is looking for auditors who are serious about the area of study.”

“Really…” 

“Oh yes. He had an unfortunate situation a number of months ago. Several auditors were only there to look at him, frankly.” Abbie paused to confirm Paula’s interest and saw the flicker of recognition. _Good_.  “It, unfortunately, got to be pretty bad. One woman made a pass at him while we were out together and he had to ask her and her friends not to return to the class.”

“When was this?” Paula asked directly.

“Oh, last November. It was terrible all around. Ichabod never reported the poor woman as she was drunk when she made the pass, but he could have. She was way out of line.” Paula leaned in and put her hand on Abbie’s arm – her new friend.

“She was drunk?” Paula had a slight smile on her face. _Bingo._

“Very,” Abbie continued, “But you won’t have to worry about that. She hasn’t shown up in one of Ichabod’s classes since, nor any of her friends. He’s a very good teacher with consistently high marks from his students every semester.”

“Yes, I can see why. He’s a very engaging person.” Paula replied looking over at Ichabod animatedly speaking with her husband. Dennis did not suffer fools gladly and he actually seemed to be really enjoying himself. Hmmm…

“Abbie, let’s go join the conversation. It looks to be a good one.”

————-

 

“I think we did it Treasure.” Ichabod looked over at Abbie briefly from the road. They were driving home from the Social – triumphant. “You were amazing. When you told that story about a University’s improved reputation as an alumni’s blue chip stock…where did that come from?”

Abbie smiled, “A conversation I had with a patron years ago. He graduated from Stanford in the late 1950s. But Stanford wasn’t “Stanford” until the 1980s in terms of having an elite national reputation. But the average person doesn’t know that. They just think he’s a Stanford grad, with all that now implies. He called his degree blue chip stock. The description stuck with me and is exactly what Dennis wants. He wants his degree to be blue chip stock.” 

“And we convinced him tonight that I can take the History Department’s reputation national. Peter was very complimentary before we left. Asked me to come around to see him tomorrow. Said he wants to discuss his retirement plans and my future career growth.”

“Yes, with the added bonus that Paula now has the ammunition she needs to shut Standra up,” Abbie laughed, “Sometimes to beat a bitch at her own game the only thing needed is to engage the services of someone more powerful.” Abbie’s smile was full of satisfaction, “From my research, there was a very good chance that Paula despises Standra…and boy does she!”

“If I were ever inclined to underestimate you, Treasure, I certainly wouldn’t now.”

“Thank you, but you did your part too. I’m not the one who kept Dennis happily debating Native people’s contribution to the nation’s founding documents. And when you told him you had been invited to speak directly with the relevant tribal elders about it. _Checkmate_.”

Ichabod looked over at Abbie. She smiled, happy to have worked together to avert his career apocalypse. She was so beautiful when she smiled.

“I love you.” Ichabod said softly, his voice descending into that baritone that made Abbie’s core clinch.

“How much do you love me?” She asked in that slow, deliberate way she had that always made Ichabod want to take her against a wall.

“I would like nothing more than to stop this car and have you ride me until I beg for mercy.” Abbie imagined doing just that, involuntarily rubbing her legs together. They were five minutes from home.

“Drive faster.”  Ichabod did as instructed hearing the urgency in Abbie’s command. He didn’t want to wait either. He watched as Abbie reached under her dress, spread her legs and touched herself, groaning. “I want you so much.”

“Oh God,” the sight of Abbie fondling herself was intoxicating, “Three more minutes and then you shall have more of me than you can handle.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Abbie moaned her reply, moving her silk underwear aside, dipping two fingers in to spread her walls. It wasn’t enough and she reclined the seat in frustration, “Dammit.”

Ichabod pulled into their driveway, stopped the car, turned in his seat and immediately replaced Abbie’s fingers with his own - pressing his thumb against her clit – hard – how she liked it. Abbie immediately ground down on his fingers, shamelessly help to move them in and out of her body, “Better, Treasure?”

Her deep, long groan went straight to his cock. God, they needed to get out of the car. “Abbie...”

She bucked up against his hand, panting, and “If you stop now, I’ll kill you. So close…”

Ichabod felt the slick vice grip of her around his fingers. “That’s it, Treasure. Come for me.” He replied darkly.

“Yes, Baby…all for you. Coming…yes…oh God, that feels so good.”  Abbie’s back arched and her mouth slacked in her bliss as her eyes closed. Ichabod brought her down slowly, making soft noises and gradually lessening the pressure on her clit. Her soft sigh of completion reminded him of his own need and he groaned involuntarily.

Abbie reached her dainty hand over to him, feeling how rock hard he was and leaned over to him for a deep kiss, “Let’s go take care of you, baby.”

Abbie was barely through the back door before Ichabod reached for the zipper of her dress, desperate to see and feel the smooth expanse of her back. Abbie pulled the dress from her shoulders, letting it slip down over her hips to the floor. She stepped over it, discarding her shoes in the process.

In the dark, the shards of moonlight reflected off of the dusky blue of her camisole bra and underwear. Abbie’s nipples were standing proudly declaring her arousal. Ichabod squeezed both her luscious breasts from behind her with his right hand, dipping his left to feel her folds. “You’re dripping…”

“All your fault.” Abbie stepped out of Ichabod’s embrace to mount the stairs. On the third step, she looked back over her shoulder at him. With a sly smile, Abbie lifted her arms, smoothly removing the camisole and playfully covering her breasts and tossing the fabric at him. Giggling, she teased, “First one up the stairs gets to come again…”

By the time Ichabod recovered his senses, finished climbing the stairs and entered their bedroom, Abbie was naked and lounging on the bed, arms raised overhead, pushing her breasts towards the ceiling. She’d turned on one bedside light, leaving the room largely in shadows. “You are glorious.” Ichabod panted quietly. “What do you want me to do? 

Ichabod swore he could die a happy man on the spot with Abbie’s next words, “Anything you want, baby. Anything you want…” 

Ichabod removed his jacket and tie, but to Abbie’s surprise, didn’t join her on the bed. He went to sit on the small armchair she kept by the window, “I want to watch you touch yourself.” He replied lowly, removing his trousers and underwear just enough to take his swollen cock in hand.

Abbie felt herself release a wave of wetness at his words and the sight of him stroking his beautiful cock. She masturbated of course – she was a grown woman – but Ichabod had never watched. The thought made almost made her come again.

“Ok, Baby. Talk to me. Tell me what to do,” Abbie almost whined as she rubbed her legs together, trying in vain to stimulate her clit.

Abbie heard Ichabod swallow hard before answering. “Touch your breasts…squeeze them.”

Abbie moved her hands down, sliding them over her face and neck slowly, as if admiring the feel of her own skin. Finally she palmed one breast in each hand. Her petite hands couldn’t begin to cover the full-sized perfect globes, but she squeezed and groaned feeling her nipples dig into her palms.

“Squeeze your nipples. Roll them between your fingers.”

Ichabod watched as Abbie pinched and rolled her nipples, twisting them to get the pleasurable pain she sometimes liked. Ichabod had to squeeze his cock hard when he felt his balls tighten at the sight. He was determined to only come in his wife tonight, but first he wanted to see how she pleasured herself.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about Treasure.”

“You…oh...how good it feels when you put your hands on me. The way you squeeze and twist my nipples. The way you bite them sometimes. Oh, please…” Abbie lifted her legs to rest her feet flat on the bed, rubbing her thighs together, needing more sensation as she opened her eyes to look at Ichabod, breathing hard, her chest heaving with the memory. “I’m thinking about when you marked me and how I’d never wanted anything more in my life.”

Ichabod’s groan was deep into his bass. She’d worn that bruise – his mark - for almost a week.

“Oh God, Ichabod! Please.”

“Touch you clit. I want to see your beautiful pussy.” He demanded, reminding himself to slow down stroking his cock. At her words, he’d sped up without realizing it and his balls were almost painfully tight. To buy time, he removed his clothes and moved closer to the bed, sitting on the bench at its foot, while Abbie slowly moved her hands down her flat abdomen to the patch of hair at her mound.

“That’s it,” he almost whispered, “touch it for me. Make yourself come…”

Abbie spread her legs wide, giving Ichabod a perfect view of her. She was so swollen the pink under hue of her folds were visibly puckered as if begging for a kiss and her clit was standing from under its hood. Ichabod had to physically restrain himself from licking the juices drying on her inner thighs, distressed at the thought of not tasting every drop of her want for him.

Ichabod watched as Abbie dipped two fingers into herself while pressing down in her clit with her other hand. Her hips undulated as she fucked her own fingers. Ichabod could tell it wasn’t enough stimulation to push her over the edge…Abbie confirmed his suspicion with a semi-frustrated groan.

“Do you need your toy, Treasure?”

Abbie managed to huff out a “Yes” while reaching blindly behind her towards the bedside table.

Ichabod went to the bedside table and opened the drawer, taking out Abbie’s vibrator. He knew she liked to use it from time to time and didn’t mind at all. He was thankful, however, that it wasn’t recognizably human, just a long bit of lavender battery-operated hardness with a soft exterior. Ichabod turned it on, cycling to the highest intensity setting before reaching from the side of the bed to press the head against Abbie’s begging clit.

“There,” he cooed, kissing Abbie softly on the lips, “is that what you need, Treasure?”

Abbie took the vibrator from Ichabod, pressing the head harder against for clit, needing the sensation to climb towards her peak. Chasing even more stimulation, Abbie reached up with her other hand to hold his mouth to hers, kissing Ichabod deeply and groaning into his mouth. She was so close…

Abbie saw Ichabod’s beautiful, long, tasty cock out of the corner of her eye. “Come closer, baby. I need to suck on you.” Abbie was almost desperate to take him into her mouth.

“Abbie…” Ichabod hesitated. He’d held off for what seemed like days at this point. If Abbie sucked on him..., “I might not be able to hold off if you do.”

“I won’t let you come, I promise,” Abbie bargained. She could feel the start of her orgasm just on the edges as she pressed the vibrator against her clit. It wouldn’t take much. “I just need to taste you, Ichabod. Please, baby…”

Ichabod knelt by Abbie’s head, keeping on leg on the floor as she turned her head and took him in. He prayed for strength as she immediately sucked on half his length hard, eagerly twirling her tongue around his head. Ichabod had to reach over and grab the headboard with his left hand to keep from collapsing over her completely. Abbie bobbed her head over him, speeding up in time to the undulation of her hips against the vibrator. 

Ichabod closed his eyes against the sight of her breasts bouncing with her movements, his cock between her lips and her hand holding the vibrator tightly against her clit. But he couldn’t block out the sounds as Abbie went careening over the edge,

“Hmmm….hmm…hmm…mmmmmmm,” she held the toy against her, hips raised one final time as she groaned deeply with Ichabod’s cock still between her lips while she came. He thanked whatever gods were listening that he had not spilled into her warm, perfect mouth.

Abbie released him and tossed the vibrator to the side, breathing heavily and feeling languid.

Ichabod moved to stand beside the bed, and tried to be patient watching her recovery. After a few moments, Abbie focused on him, once again spreading her legs in obvious invitation. “Come into me, baby.” Her words were soft, loving and a hallelujah chorus to Ichabod’s ears.

He moved between her thighs, lining up. He knew he had to be careful, thinking she might be too sensitive after her orgasms, but Abbie was not having it, grabbing his ass to pull him into her in one go.

“Oh! Wow!” Abbie exclaimed, looking up into Ichabod’s face as he stretched her, eyes closed, holding himself still for fear of hurting her. “Does that feel good baby?”

He opened his eyes, bending his back to kiss her gently, “Good? You are so tight. So wet…I need. God…I need to…”

Abbie returned his kiss, stroking his face and his hair.

“Take what you need, babe. I’m alright.”

Ichabod gratefully lifted Abbie’s legs over his shoulders, withdrew and plunged in again, grinding his pelvis against her with each forceful thrust. She met him lifting her hips, using her grip on his firearms for leverage.  

“Tell me…” Abbie asked, her breath coming faster as she felt Ichabod swell within her. 

“You are heaven…you are perfection. What…what have I done to deserve having you by my side?” Ichabod grunted one final time, feeling as if angels were granting him a gift for the ages as he pulsed into Abbie with four strong spasms of release.

Ichabod carefully withdrew from Abbie, letting go of her legs and settling by her side. 

“I’ll get you some tissues…and your sleep bonnet.”

Abbie turned to her side to watch Ichabod go into the bathroom.

“Thanks honey. And if this is what a career apocalypse means for our sex life, I say when is the next one, cause – damn!”  

Ichabod chuckled walking back into the room, feeling blessed beyond measure that he had the privilege of being Abbie’s husband.


	14. My Baby and  Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie discovers some surprising news and Edward Crane makes another move in his quest to win Miss Evelyn's favor. As always, all mistakes are my own and please leave a comment if you like. Thanks! Enjoy.

Abbie came down the stairs on the early Saturday morning, dressed for her walk with Sharon and Tisha, but not feeling all that great. She was tired and waking up to a queasy stomach didn’t help. Ichabod noticed her slightly pale face as she walked into the kitchen and worried, as was his want when it came to his Abbie, 

“Treasure, are you alright?”   

“I’m fine. Just an upset stomach. Maybe something I ate.” 

Ichabod walked across the kitchen to Abbie and felt her forehead. “I don’t detect a fever.” 

“Wouldn’t be one with a simple upset stomach.” Abbie gently removed Ichabod’s hand from her forehead. “I’m fine baby. Besides, don’t you have to pick your grandfather up at the airport?” 

“Yes…Yes, I don’t want to be late. Although I do wish he would stay with us rather than a hotel. We have the room.” 

“I offered.” Abbie shrugged helplessly.  

“I know.” Ichabod leaned in to kiss the spot where his hand had just been. “I’m starved. I’ll just open my donuts and take one for the road.” 

“You know you mean take two for the road,” Abbie said playfully swiping at her husband’s arm.  

Ichabod’s donut of the month delivery arrived late the day before. He opened the box, eager to taste this month’s convection when he saw Abbie quickly put her hand up to her nose, as if she would be ill right there in the kitchen.  _What on earth was going on?_  

“Abbie…” 

“Oh God…I feel like I’m going to throw up.” Abbie put her head between her legs, trying to breath through her mouth to ward off the nausea. “I think it’s the donuts….”she breathed. “I’m sorry.” 

Ichabod took the entire delivery box to the backyard where they kept their large garbage cans and unceremoniously dumped it in the trash without regret. His only concern to hurray back inside, he saw Abbie breathing deeply recovering from the smell-induced nausea.  

“Perhaps I should have Granddad take a cab from the airport?” Ichabod was worried. In all their time together, he had never known Abbie to be ill, except for the very occasional cold.  

“Don’t you dare have your 88 year old grandfather take a cab, not as long as I’m your wife.” Abbie said emphatically, standing up straight, “Donuts are gone. Problem solved. It’s probably just some bug. Go, before you’re late.” 

“Very well. If you are not well by Monday, I am personally taking you to the doctor,” Ichabod proclaimed as he hugged Abbie close, tucking her against his heartbeat. “Is that understood?” 

Abbie smiled, secretly pleased at how protective he was of her, “Yes, Captain Crane. Understood.” 

Abbie left the half bath, her stomach still slightly heaving and walked to the front door to open it for her friend Sharon. Ichabod had left 30 minutes prior to pick up his grandfather and then to do research for his new book. He wasn’t due back before dinner time.   

“Hey,” Sharon turned to look at her friend, “God Abbie, you look like death warmed over.”  

Abbie moved aside to let Sharon cross the threshold. “Gee, thanks friend. Love you too.” 

Sharon and Abbie walked into the kitchen, Sharon sitting at the island, “This damn stomach bug is a pain in the ass. Probably got it from one of the kids.” 

“Really?” Sharon questioned, looking closely at her friend, “That doesn’t sound like you. In all the years you were the Children’s Librarian, I don’t remember you ever getting sick from the kids. “ 

Abbie shrugged, “First time for everything.” Abbie sat next to Sharon, still a little queasy from almost puking this morning. “But enough about me – spill. What’s the latest on you and Bram?” 

Abbie smiled watching her long-time friend blush. “We been on three coffee dates. One he even flew 16 hours – just to have coffee with me at a local Starbucks. That’s crazy!” Sharon looked at Abbie with a sidelong glance, “Isn’t it?” 

“Not from what I know of Bram.” Abbie said softly. “Three coffee dates, huh? You must like him.” 

“I do. He makes me laugh and he’s very smart. Witty and just a little wicked. But there’s no pressure. He asks me to have dinner with him, but he doesn’t push. He’s taking this at my pace.” Abbie didn’t miss the slightly distressed look cross her friend’s face.  

“But…” 

“No, but…except…” Sharon threw her hands up. This was new territory for her.  

“Sisterhood Confessional?” 

“Thanks.” Sharon sighed. “I’ve only ever been with Tony. He was the only boy I ever kissed and only man I ever slept with…and that was ok.” 

“But not anymore?” Abbie asked knowingly.  

“Bram hasn’t even tried to kiss me, Abbie. Why not?” 

“Well, like you said, he’s going at your pace. Have you let him know that you may be ready for more.  Maybe dinner?” 

“Maybe. But dinner means finding a sitter for the kids.” 

“You know I’ll watch them for you.” Abbie loved AJ and Izzy like they were her own. She’d be happy to hang with them.  

Sharon blushed furiously, going a deep pink. “Even over night?” 

Abbie couldn’t hide her surprise, “Dinner into breakfast?” 

“Maybe….I don’t know yet. Fuck, this is nuts. I’m thirty-two years old. This shouldn’t be this hard.” Sharon breathed and exhaled, calming herself. “But would you?” 

Abbie heard the doorbell ring and put her hand on her friend’s shoulder, “Of course, Sharon. Whatever you need. Whatever you decide, just make sure it’s what’s best for you.” 

“Hey Tisha, come on in.” Abbie led Tisha to the kitchen. “I’m sorry guys, I don’t think I’m up for our walk. I’ve been fighting this stomach bug.” Abbie explained, apologizing.  

While Abbie and Sharon were long time friends, Tisha Alvarez had only know the pair for two years when she started working with Sharon at the local middle school. Tisha moved to Sleepy Hollow after a messy divorce, finding the strength to leave an abusive husband and start over in the town.  Sharon took to the young, pretty, Latina, introducing her to Abbie. 

“It’s no problem. I would have to bail early on the walk anyway. I start my second job today. I want to put a down payment on a condo, so got to make that money.” Tisha explained taking a seat next to Sharon at the island, “But I’d love some girl talk and coffee before I have to go.” 

“That I can do,” Abbie smiled, getting the coffee out of the refrigerator. 

When the coffee was done brewing, Abbie poured three mugs, passing two to the ladies and took a sip of her own, “Ugh! This coffee is nasty.” Abbie grimaced. “And, I swear, I almost threw up when Ichabod opened his donuts this morning.” 

Both Tisha and Sharon sipped their coffee while Abbie watched expectantly, “The coffee is fine, Abbie.” Sharon responded for both of them. Tisha looked at Sharon, who returned her gaze.  

Tisha was blunt to a fault. It got her in trouble sometimes, she knew. But if ever there was a time to lay it out, this was it. Abbie could not be this clueless.  

“Abbie, you are way too smart to be this dumb.” 

“Excuse me?” Abbie asked, more than slightly offended by Tisha’s trademark bluntness.  

“Abbie, hun, it’s obvious.” Sharon agreed, far more gently. Her friend was not clueless, she just didn’t know the signs.  

“What are you two talking about?” Abbie said, beyond irritated at this point.  

“Abbie, you’re pregnant!” They declared in unison.   

Abbie’s silence and stunned face was the only reply. She took a very needed moment to recover. But she was by no means calm.  

“What? No, I’m not!” Abbie said, finding herself very close to angry, but not really knowing why.  

“You really want us to break it down for you? Morning nausea, getting sick at certain smells, the taste of coffee is off, you look very tired and let me ask you a question – when was your last period?” Tisha ticked off the signs with her fingers matter of factly.  

Abbie thought about it and realized she was a week overdue for her period. Sometimes she was late if stressed, but never more than a couple of days. How had she missed it?  

Abbie looked at her friends, contrite, “Oh my God! I might be pregnant.” She couldn’t hold back a happy giggle, “I’m pregnant!” 

Sharon, always the practical one, asked the obvious question, “Do you have a test in the house?” 

“No. I know this sounds weird, but I didn’t want to jinx it. If it happened it would happen…” Abbie looked at her friends with a shrug.  

Now that Abbie had come down off her “What you talkin’ ‘bout Willis?“ high horse, Tisha was more sympathetic to the shock, “Not weird at all, sweetie. Why don’t Sharon and I go to the drug store and pick up a few for you? I’ve got time before I have to go.” 

“Thank you. I…I’d appreciate it.” Abbie followed the pair to the door, going to the living room to plop on the sofa, spent.  _Pregnant_ … _holy shit._  

Abbie woke up to the sound of her cell phone ringing, somewhat surprised that she had quickly fallen asleep on the sofa. It had only been 30 minutes or so since Sharon and Tisha left. She knew they would be back soon.  

“Hello?”  

“Abbie, it’s me. Am I catching you at a bad time?” 

“No…not at all, Miss Evelyn.” Abbie sat up slowly, still conscious of her slightly queasy stomach. “What’s up?” 

“What is going on with that man?” Miss Evelyn asked matter of factly.  

“What man? Ichabod?” Abbie knew she sounded confused, but she was still groggy from her unexpected nap and her brain cells weren’t yet firing at their normal speed.  

“No, not  _your_  man! Edward Crane!” Miss Evelyn replied, very exasperated.  

“Oh,  _your_  man.” Abbie said before her brain could stop her mouth.  

“Abigail Mills Crane, don’t you sass me.” 

Abbie had never known Miss Evelyn to be in such a temper. Something had her riled up.  “I’m sorry Miss Evelyn. I didn’t mean to offend you. What’s the matter?” 

“That  _man_  is the matter. I’m thinking he’s coming back to see me this week for some…pie.” 

Abbie closed her eyes at the euphemism.  _How was this her life?_ “He’s not coming back for…pie…as it were?” 

“No! I asked him point blank if I should have the pie and whiskey ready. The man is Good Dick after all…and he said no. What is he doing, Abbie?” Miss Evelyn was clearly struggling to figure this out. Abbie, on the other hand, knew exactly what was going on.  _The Art of War._ Edward Crane style.  

“Well, if not for…pie, why is he visiting?” 

“Lawd a mercy, that’s the worst part.” Abbie heard Miss Evelyn’s sigh. “He coming to church with me tomorrow.” 

“I’m sorry. Did you say church? Well…I guess that’s nice. You go to church every week.” Abbie shrugged.  

“Abbie…think… you know I go to Zion Hill Mt Ebenezer First Avenue Baptist.”  

“Miss Evelyn, I’m really not seeing the problem.” 

“He’ll be the only white person there.” She exclaimed.  

“Yeah. Probably. But, do you care what the church thinks? Are you embarrassed to been seen with him?” Abbie couldn’t imagine a scenario where Miss Evelyn was embarrassed by anything, but she loved her grandfather and Miss Evelyn both.  

“Abbie, I was sleeping with white men when it was still illegal in 16 states to marry one.” Miss Evelyn replied baldly, “Good Dick comes in all creeds and colors.” 

“Then honestly, Miss Evelyn, I don’t understand the problem.” Abbie was starting to get a slight headache and walked gingerly to the kitchen for some water – cell phone in hand. 

“The problem is I don’t know what he’s doing.” 

“Ask him. I’ve found Crane men to be pretty honest.” 

“Maybe I will…oh forget it. He wants to come to church. Fine. He’ll find out!” 

Abbie didn’t say anything because she wanted to live, but she’d bet five bucks that her dear friend Miss Evelyn was the one who was about to find out. “Ok, Miss Evelyn. Call me tomorrow and tell me how it goes. Or better yet, Monday. Knowing you two, you’ll be busy tomorrow.” 

Finally something about this situation got Miss Evelyn to laugh, “Probably, but you’re one to talk. I don’t think you and that husband of yours have stopped smiling since you got back from Italy.” 

“No, I don’t suppose we have.” Miss Evelyn could hear the smile in Abbie’s voice. “Bye, Miss Evelyn. Try to enjoy Granddad’s company.” 

“It’s not his company I’m worried about. Bye, Abbie.” Miss Evelyn said drily, disconnecting the line.  

\--------------- 

“Ok, Tisha asked me to tell you good luck. She had to go.” Sharon arrived back with three different brands of pregnancy tests, spring water and a box of peppermint tea. When she was pregnant it helped to settle her stomach. She hoped it would work for Abbie.  

“That’s ok. I’m kind of happy it’s just us, if you know what I mean.” 

Sharon smiled, remembering all the times Abbie was there for her when Tony was dying, “I know exactly what you mean.” 

Opening the liter bottle of spring water she purchased along with the tests, Sharon handed it to Abbie, “Drink up, mama!” 

Thirty minutes and three tests later, Sharon and Abbie sat on the couch in the living room. Sharon had made Abbie a cup of the peppermint tea, now knowing she would need it.  

“I’m pregnant.” Abbie face was blank as reality set in. 

“Yup. You are.” Sharon looked at Abbie from her corner of the couch, “How are you feeling?” 

“Overwhelmed. Ecstatic. Scared out of my fucking mind.” Abbie chuckled without much humor, “I wanted this.  _I want this_. And now, I can’t believe it.” She put her hand in her lower stomach, in awe, “I’m growing a human in there.” 

“Yes, the best of both you and Ichabod.” 

Abbie didn’t miss the shadow that crossed her friend’s face. Tony and Sharon had wanted a lot of kids, “Oh, honey. Is this hard for you? I don’t want to bring up bad memories.” 

“What? No,”  Sharon shook her head, “Abbie I am so happy for you. You are going to be an  _amazing_  mother. And I for one am going to laugh my ass off watching how uber protective Ichabod is going to be as soon as he finds out. Comedy gold.” 

Abbie threw her head back with a groan, “He’s going to be impossible. I might have to kill him myself.” 

Sharon laughed, “Let me know if you need my brothers to run him out of town. They’re still on standby.” Sharon was happy to make her good friend laugh at the thought. Again.  

 

\------------- 

“Abbie? Treasure, where are you?” 

“I’m in the backyard,” Ichabod heard Abbie say and went to find her. The October evening had turned a bit cool, so Abbie was wrapped in a blanket sitting on the patio in one of the chairs.  

Ichabod came up behind her, “What are you doing out here?” 

“Looking at the stars. Thinking.” Abbie sighed, “It’s all so beautiful and scary, you know?” Ichabod walked in front of her chair and asked, “Would you mind company?” 

The smile on Abbie’s upturned face was radiant, “Nope.” She laughed as Ichabod reached over and lifted her from the chair, sitting down himself and settling Abbie in his lap.  

“There are three other chairs out here, you know.” 

“Yes, but they are all too far away from you.” 

Abbie settled, resting her head on her husband’s shoulder, “I don’t know if I ever told you, but I love being married to you.” 

“I love you too, Treasure,” Abbie felt his chest rumble with his words and snuggled down further into his warmth. God, she loved this man.  

“I know you do, but that’s not what I mean. I love being your wife. Having you as my husband. You…us…it’s the best thing in my life. I’m so glad you found me.”  

“Actually, it is I who am glad you found me. Left up to me, I might still be at the library trying to figure out your name.” Abbie huffed out a laugh at that statement, acknowledging the kernel of truth in it.  

“We found each other…” Abbie’s kiss to his lips was soft. Perfection.  

“It seems you’re feeling better.” 

“I am. For the moment.” Abbie realized, “I forgot to ask you – how is Granddad? Did he get settled in at his hotel?” 

“Quite well. He plans on seeing Miss Evelyn tonight. He’s taking her out on a proper date. Dinner.” 

“Does she know that?” Abbie asked, remembering her call from Miss Evelyn earlier. 

“I believe so,” Ichabod shifted slightly, remembering, “When my grandmother died, he seemed so stoic. But in retrospect, I know losing her almost killed him. It’s nice to see him come alive again. Be more the man I remember from when I was young.” 

“I am happy for him, but Miss Evelyn will be a challenge.” 

Ichabod kissed the top of her hair as he whispered lowly, “You think Crane men aren’t up for a challenge? Shall I remind you tonight if you’re feeling well enough?” 

Abbie felt herself go wet just at the moment her stomach growled.  Damn. “Maybe, but I think I need to eat first.” 

“Whatever my treasure prefers,” Ichabod rose from the chair, Abbie still in his arms as he carried her back into the house, setting her carefully down on her feet.  

Ichabod bowed deeply to Abbie as they stood in the kitchen, “What would you like for today’s evening meal, my lady?” 

Abbie waved off the bow as silly, but her smile betrayed how happy it made her, “Something light. How about tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches? Think you can manage that, Professor?”  

“I think so, yes. And after the evening meal…chess perhaps?” 

“Maybe,” Abbie snapped her fingers, “I Love Lucy. Ever watch it before?” 

“Of course! I was born in the 20th Century.” Ichabod laughed slightly, a furrow between his brows.  

“Good. I’m going to take a shower while you cook. That ok?” 

Ichabod gently pushed Abbie towards the stairs, “Of course. It will be ready by the time you finish.” 

Abbie sat next to Ichabod on the couch, cradling a mug of peppermint tea. She had deftly avoided the beer he put next to her plate, citing her upset stomach. Abbie felt bad when Ichabod blushed and apologized for being “so careless.” 

“So, Treasure, which episode are we enjoying this evening? Is it the one where she and Ethel go to work in the chocolate factory?” He chuckled lightly, “I like that one very much.” 

Abbie reached for the remote, the episode she wanted already queued up, “Lucy is Enceinte. It’s a good one.” 

“Oh, very well. I think I remember that one.” Ichabod settled back into the cushion bringing Abbie’s feet into his lap, content.  

 

 _Rock a bye_ _baby, on the tree top._  

 _When the wind blows, the cradle will rock,_  

 _When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall,_  

 _And down will come baby, cradle and all...”_  

 

Ichabod glanced over at Abbie as Ricky found out he was going to be a father and stopped short, seeing the tears in her eyes. “Abbie, my love, what’s the matter? Tell me.” 

“Nothing. Nothing’s the matter,” Abbie pulled the three short wands out of the pocket of her sweatshirt, holding them up in front of her. Ichabod could clearly see the plus signs on each one as Abbie begin to sing softly along with Ricky Ricardo… 

 

 _“We’re having a baby, my baby and me_ _. You’ll read it it in_ _Winchell_   _'s_  

 _That we’re adding a limb to our family tree…”_  

 

“Really, Treasure?” Ichabod felt happy tears come to his eyes. He let them fall. 

“Yes! Yes…we’re going to have a baby!” Abbie laughed when Ichabod stood, reached down and hugged her tightly  to him, lifting Abbie to stand in his arms.  

“Do you know how far along we are?” He was awestruck. A baby!

“No. I…I just took the tests today.” Abbie replied, her tears now falling freely.

“Well, we’ll have to find out. Do we have a doctor? He or she must be the best.  And I’ll cancel my donuts for these last two months – can’t have them upsetting your stomach. And I’ll have to find out the paternity leave policy at the University…” 

Abbie touched her palm to his cheek, stopping his small rant mid-sentence, “Ichabod baby…we can deal with all that...I promise…and I think it’s time to speak to your mother about...you know. But, for now, can we just…be?” Abbie said quietly, nothing but love in her exquisite brown eyes.   

Ichabod exhaled, grateful to be reminded to stay as long as he could in this beautiful moment.  

“I’m so sorry, Treasure. I got ahead of myself,” He apologized.  

Ichabod swayed the two of them slowly, looking into her eyes, smiling as he picked up where Abbie left off,  

 

 _“_ _We’re pushing our carriage_  

 _How proud I will be_  

 _There’s nothing like marriage…”_  

 

 


	15. The Librarian vs. The General

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this Miss Evelyn and Mr. Edward centered chapter, the two lovebirds come to an understanding and Miss Evelyn gets some real talk from an old family friend. Mistakes are my own, thanks for reading. Comments are always appreciated and PS. Annie is me. I couldn't resist a little self insert. 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to all my grandmother's "hens" who encouraged and celebrated me when I was growing up. I spent more hours than I can say in the company of these amazing women and I am far the better for it. Enjoy!

Ichabod was chopping the fresh peppermint leaves when he saw the FaceTime notification on his phone.

“Granddad?”  Ichabod mused aloud, “Since when does he use FaceTime?”

“Hello Grandad,” Ichabod said by way of greeting after accepting the call, “What a pleasant surprise.”

Edward Crane’s face filled the screen, “Good Morning Ichabod. Sorry to bother you so early.”

“Not at all. I was just making Abbie some peppermint tea.” Ichabod stopped chopping and set aside the peppermint, “Is something the matter?”

Edward Crane held up two ties, one red and one green, “Which tie do you prefer?”

“This is for church today with Miss Evelyn? The red.”

“Really? The red?  Very well.” Edward sighed deeply.

“Is something wrong? How was your date last night? Abbie was surprised to find out about it.”

“The date was very nice…once I was able to make my escape.” Edward replied.

“Your escape?” Ichabod was bemused, “What does _that_ mean?”

“It means that Evelyn Johnson is an enemy combatant not to be taken lightly.” Edward Crane’s expression was pained, yet determined. “I will not make the mistake of underestimating her again.”

Ichabod laughed, “I could have told you that…what happened?” He was trying desperately to keep a straight face and only half succeeding.

“When I arrived at her house to escort her to dinner, I found she had prepared a full-frontal assault on my resolve.”

“Really? What kind of assault?”

“Pies, Ichabod. Sweet potato pie, now that I was prepared for…but in addition, there was apple, cherry, coconut custard, blueberry and key lime. It was a D-Day level assault. My own personal Dunkirk. I barely survived with my dignity still in my trousers.”  Ichabod turned to the bowl containing the fresh ginger he had purchased at the market that morning to hide his smile. He planned to add some sliced ginger to Abbie’s tea. 

“It seems to me surrender might be easier and certainly, more pleasurable. Why resist her…and her pies?”

Edward’s eyebrows raised in surprise. He thought his grandson would understand, “Because there is more at stake than momentary release, Ichabod. I want Evelyn, I won’t deny that, but more importantly I want to be in her life permanently. This is _not_ a fling. I would hope you of all people would understand.”

 _“_ I do understand, granddad. I’m sorry for making you think otherwise.” Ichabod apologized as he took the tea kettle off the stove, “So what is your next move?”

“Church is very important to Evelyn. I must impress upon her that I can fit seamlessly into her world. This world.”

Ichabod considered his grandfather’s words in light of what he knew of Miss Evelyn, “I think that is a solid plan.”

“Good,” Edward focused on the hot water Ichabod poured into the teapot full of mint leaves and fresh ginger, “How far along is Abbie?”

Ichabod’s head snapped up in surprise, “What?”

“How far along is your wife in her pregnancy?” Edward clarified.

“We…we don’t know yet. We have an appointment on Tuesday with the doctor to find out,” Ichabod shook his head wonderingly, “How did you know?”

“The tea. It is a common enough treatment for nausea. Given that is is early morning and Abbie has not come downstairs since we’ve been talking even though I know her to be an early riser, I assume she is still abed, probably dealing with the nausea your tea is meant to help. It was an educated guess.”

“Yes…well…good guess.” Ichabod wipes his hands on the tea towel, nervous all of a sudden, “Mum and Dad don’t know yet.”

“They will not hear it from me.” Edward’s face softened seeing his grandson’s slight distress. “I should go. I am due at the church in an hour for the start of devotional.”

“Ok. Take care, granddad and good luck.”

\----------

Abbie was just coming from behind the circulation desk when she saw Annie Richardson and Miss Evelyn enter the library on the Monday afternoon. Fortunately, Baby Crane limited the nausea to the morning and the tea Ichabod prepared had helped, so Abbie was feeling herself for the moment.

It’d been some time since Abbie had run into the African American woman. Annie was in her late 40s and had grown up in Sleepy Hollow. She now worked in New York City as she called it “getting paid a stupid amount of money to tell executives things they don’t want to hear and make them ok about it. In other words – consulting.”

“Annie, hey girl!” Abbie hugged the older woman who was about Abbie’s height, careful not to have their respective glasses collide and then turned to hug Miss Evelyn, “What are you two doing here?”

“I have a hold on the new Tom Clancy novel.” Miss Evelyn replied.

“And I have the day off and decided to spend it teasing my grandmother’s best friend about her new man.” Annie’s smirk was accompanied by a sly side eye at Miss Evelyn. She had a wicked sense of humor and was known for her way with words.

Miss Evelyn sat in a nearby booth, scoffing at the woman she’d practically helped raise all those years Liesje was Annie’s legal guardian. “He’s not my man. Stop your fibbing.”

“Well, didn’t look that way to me.” Annie took a seat across from Miss Evelyn, looking up at Abbie standing by the booth, “You should have seen it Abbie! Made my yearly trip to church completely worth it. It was a three-act play.” Annie cackled with sparking eyes. 

Abbie couldn’t resist and pulled over a chair, much to Miss Evelyn’s consternation. “Tell me everything.”

“Well, I got there early with my Aunt Barbara.” Annie started, “and saw Miss E and Brother Crane come in…”

“Brother Crane?” Abbie laughed, picturing Ichabod’s grandfather with an Afro for some reason.

“I’ll get to that,” Annie smiled back, “So Brother Crane and Miss E take their seats right before Devotional started. Well, you know there probably hasn’t been a white man in that church since kitty was a puss.”

“That’s not true!” Miss Evelyn sat with her arms crossed staring down the pair. She couldn’t stop the conversation but she didn’t have to like it. “LaTonya Claymore’s cousin is white. He came to church last Spring.”

“As I recall, he’s also thirteen. Nice try Miss E,” Annie blew Miss Evelyn a kiss before continuing, “ _Anyhow_ , Brother Crane has on this sharp dark gray suit and red tie. His head was shining and his beard was nicely trimmed. Girl, call a spade a spade…the man is fine.”

“What does him being fine have to do with worshiping the Lord?” Miss Evelyn asked, shaking her head.

“Oh, so you agree he’s fine?” Annie pursed her lips with a half smile. “Good to know.” Abbie laughed along, earning her a glare from her mentor, “So, Reverend Patterson comes out to start the service. Opens up with _What a Friend We Have in Jesus_ and the congregation has a moment because Brother Crane is singing loud and proud.”

“Oh stop it,” Miss Evelyn waved her hand at Annie’s exaggeration.

“Miss Evelyn,” Annie tilted her head, her voice dipping, “Between the panties dropping baritone and knowing all the words, that man was either born a poor Black child or was seriously trying to get invited to the cookout.” She shrugged, “I don’t know…you tell me.”

Abbie almost chocked on her tongue, “Panties dropping?”

“Child…trust. How often does a single, older, fit, interesting man walk into that church?” Annie sucked her teeth, “He could have been purple and those hens wouldn’t have cared.”

“Ann Charlotte Richardson! Enough.” Miss Evelyn almost hissed. Her commanding tone worked on almost everyone she knew, but had never worked on Annie. That child was born with an aversion to respecting authority just because it was demanded…drove her grandmother nuts at the same time it’d made her so proud.

“What?” Annie asked with an innocent ‘ _What did I do?’_ expression on her face. “That’s what you and grandma called your girlfriends at church. The Hens…am I wrong?”

“No,” Miss Evelyn responded, reminded that Annie was always far too precocious as a child.

Annie smiled slightly at Miss Evelyn, gently triumphant, “Anyhoo, after Mr. Crane sang along to every negro spiritual in the Baptist Church catalog, Reverend Patterson had him come up to the front of the church and introduce himself before the Reverend closed out the service.”

“Seriously?” Abbie was impressed. Go granddad!!

“Seriously! He explained his grandson lived in town and had recently gotten married to you and that he was thinking of moving to America permanently if he was able to put some things in place. And then of course he looked at Miss Evelyn…who was looking everywhere but at him…in the meantime, he let the congregation know how very welcome he felt and that if _Miss Evelyn would allow it_ , he’d be back soon.”

“Wow…” Abbie jaw actually dropped. Granddad Crane was the business.

“And that’s when Reverend Patterson said he hoped ‘Brother Crane’ would be able to move to America and that Miss Evelyn was welcome to bring him back anytime.”

Abbie turned to Miss Evelyn, “What did you do when he said that, Miss Evelyn?”

“Do? What was there to do? Nothing!” Miss Evelyn was agitated, but could not cry foul – Annie was exaggerating to Miss Evelyn’s way of thinking, but she wasn’t lying. “He came back to sit next to me. _The End._ ” She put emphasis on the last two words hoping it would deter Annie. Shoulda known.

“Oh hardly.” Annie saw Abbie lean forward in her chair and leaned forward in return. “After this display, there was no way I was missing the after church social.” Annie’s grin was mischievous and knowing. Miss Evelyn prepared herself…

“The church social?” Abbie asked. She had been to the Baptist church a handful of times over the years, but had never attended an after service social.

“Yes!” Annie snapped her fingers in a circle, “Picture it...along one table, the food. Along another table, what everybody really came for…the desserts.”

Annie pointed over at Miss Evelyn, “Now, to their credit, the hens waited for the signal. If Miss Evelyn saw to Brother Crane’s plate, it was done – game over. But she didn’t so…”

Abbie’s head whipped around to stare at her long-time mentor, “You didn’t fix him a plate?”

“Man’s got two hands and walks better than I do,” Miss Evelyn’s tone was pure petulance.

“Mmmm. Hmmmm…” Annie hummed her skepticism, “Now everybody in three counties knows not to step to Miss Evelyn’s pies. She is the Queen of that hill. But, the Cake Brigade came to play ball.”

Abbie covered her wide-mouthed laugh with her hands. This was the most fun she’d had all day.

“Miss Allie and her German Chocolate Cake made the first move,” Annie impersonated Allison Saunders’ high pitched, girlish voice. “Why Brother Crane, you just have to try a slice of my cake. I won a second place ribbon at the county fair last year.”

“Second place behind my pie,” Evelyn mumbled. Annie huffed out a laugh,

“The petty is strong with this one.” Annie gestured toward her grandmother’s long-time friend, “Then here comes Sara Davis and her three layer vanilla, coconut cake.”

Miss Evelyn rolled her eyes and shifted, crossing her arms even tighter.

“Don’t hate on Miss Sara. That cake got her three husbands.”

“And she buried each one. I wonder why?” The sarcasm rolled off Miss Evelyn, making all three ladies laugh.

Miss Evelyn put up her hand to stop Annie’s next comment, “We don’t need to talk about Elizabeth Jackson’s ‘Better Than Sex Cake’ because the Good Lord knows it ain’t.”

“Did Mrs. Jackson really tell Granddad that was the name of her cake?” Abbie asked, a little scandalized, why she didn’t know. She should be immune by now after Miss Evelyn’s Good Dick lectures.

“Yes, she did.” Annie had laughter tears in her eyes remembering, “with a wink and a smile!"

“None of this matters anyway, Abbie.” Miss Evelyn said primly. “He didn’t eat more than a polite forkful of each attempt.”

“No, Miss Evelyn, you’re right.” Annie looked at her grandmother’s friend, remembering the years she’d spent listening to them laugh and talk in Liesje’s sunny kitchen. Annie loved Miss Evelyn like family and no one could get to the root like family could. “So I’m going to tell it to you straight – like my grandmother would if she were still alive.”

“What’s that?” Miss Evelyn asked with a long-suffering sigh.

“If you want Edward Crane _at all,_ you better claim him, because those hens are coming for your rooster.”

\----------

Edward was surprised when the front desk called and informed him of his visitor.

“Come in, Evelyn.” Edward accepted the small satchel the hotel employee was carrying for Evelyn.

Evelyn crossed the threshold, cane in one hand, “Thanks Peter. Tell your mother I said hello.”

“Sure Miss Evelyn. Thanks again for the tip.”

Edward closed the door, following Evelyn into the modest hotel room, placing the satchel on the hotel desk.

“I must say, I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Well, I must say, I’m surprised to be here.”

Evelyn took out the pie, plate and cutlery. Edward watched her cut a slice of the astonishingly delicious looking pie and place it carefully on the plate.

She turned, stalking him as she spoke, “I thought about you today after I got home from the library. I thought about the two days we were together. About how good you looked. How good you felt. Lord take me, I thought about it all.”

Evelyn had backed up Edward to his bed, almost forcing him to sit with a small huff. She looked down at him, pie still in her hand.

“You haven’t eaten any of my pie since you’ve been back. Not one taste...open your mouth,” she quietly commanded. Edward instantly complied, recognizing the authority of a superior officer.

Evelyn placed the fork in Edward’s open mouth and shivered a moment remembering where else that mouth had been. “Close your mouth,” she said lowly and Edward did as told, sliding the creamy sweet potato pie onto his tongue with an involuntary groan. It had been too long.

“Are you going to keep denying what we both want, Ed? I’ve got some whiskey in that bag too.” Evelyn stepped away, “or I can have Allie, Sara or Liz come over with some cake.” Evelyn shrugged with far more nonchalance than she felt, “Up to you.”

Edward Crane stood abruptly, gazing down at the petite woman who had won his heart – helping him live again.

“If we do this, you have to ensure that the next time I attend church with you I won’t have to fend off random cake when all I want is your pie.”

“Fine. I can live with that for a while.” Her concession was hardly enthusiastic, but he would take it. For now. 

Edward carefully took the pie from Evelyn and stepped around her to set it on the desk for…later.

“Where’s the whiskey?” Evelyn swallowed at his tone, pointing to the satchel. It was going to be a long night of little sleep. She couldn’t wait.

 

 


	16. The Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie and Ichabod face a crisis in their young marriage as Ichabod realizes just how much he has to lose and over compensates for his fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who have stuck with this story this far...I truly appreciate every kudo and comment. All mistakes are my own. Comments are appreciated - this was a hard chapter for me to write. I don't like seeing Ichabbie in pain.

“Hi! Come on in,” Abbie and Ichabod stepped aside to let Helena and Charles into their home. The couple had arrived in U.S. the week before, spending time in Boston and New York City on holiday before making their way to Sleepy Hollow for Christmas. Abbie was thrilled to see them. The foursome hadn’t been in the same room since the August wedding and a lot had changed since then, some for the better. _“And some for the worse,”_ Abbie thought unbidden but pushed it aside. It was Christmas, after all.

“Oh Charles! Look,” Helena took in Abbie’s appearance, the black leggings, ballet flats and white blouse. Her hair was down, curls shiny and full.  Abbie’s face showed just the barest beginnings of added weight from the pregnancy but Helena’s sharp focus didn’t miss the air of sadness about Abbie… _something was wrong._ “You look beautiful Abbie!” Helena hugged the smaller woman before stepping back. Her hands went towards the small baby bump just visible beneath Abbie’s blouse, “May I?” Helena asked with respect and awe. This was her _grandchild_.

Abbie’s quick laugh gave Helena hope that whatever was bothering her daughter-in-law could be fixed, “Of course! Ichabod does nothing but touch the bump. You’d almost think I don’t exist anymore.” A slight silence followed Abbie’s candor, but she covered for it, quickly grabbing Helena’s hands and placing them on her stomach, “I can’t really feel the baby yet, but the doctor says it should be very soon. But he or she is in there. Doing the growing thing.” 

Helena looked over at Charles as she felt the softly rounded belly that protected their grandchild. Charles smiled, looking down at the radiant happiness on his wife’s face, placing his hand next to her’s on Abbie’s bump, “When you and Ichabod called to tell us we were going to be grandparents, I don’t think Helena and I stopped smiling for a week.”

“I know I can’t wait to be a father.” Ichabod interjected, truly happy to see his parents. “Mum, take off your coat at least!” Helena smiled realizing that she and Charles had not even removed their heavy coats yet.

 “I suppose you’re right.” She laughed, finally removing the heavy coat with Ichabod’s help.

\----------

“Abbie! What on earth are you doing?” Ichabod rushed over to Abbie, almost wrenching the kitchen knife from her hand. She and Helena were making dinner while Ichabod and his Dad took a walk and caught up. No big deal…at least before the baby.

Abbie looked at Ichabod, both incredulous and embarrassed. It was one thing to do this when they were alone. It was another thing with his parents around. “What does it look like I was doing, Ichabod? Trying to make dinner!” Abbie wasn’t about to take the knife back. One, it was too dangerous to try to take a knife out of someone’s hand – something her idiot husband should have realized. Two, she had far too much self respect to be so desperate in her own damn house.

Ichabod put the knife down and took Abbie by the shoulders smiling slightly down at his petite wife, “We talked about this Abbie. Being on your feet for prolonged periods is not good for you or the baby. I make all the meals – you put your feet up and let me handle things.”  Ichabod clearly failed to see what was very obvious to Helena and Charles – Abbie wanted to hit their son over the head. Helena thought Ichabod looked far too pleased with himself for a man so close to death. 

“Um…Abbie dear..why don’t you and I go for a nice walk before it gets too dark and let Charles and Ichabod finish making dinner? You were telling me about your plans for the library this coming year.” Helena held her breath while Abbie stared at her – deciding. “Fine.”

Helena heard Charles release a breath she’d wager he didn’t even know he was holding. 

“That sounds lovely, Mum. But not too far, if you’d please. It’s very cold outside and I wouldn’t want Abbie to catch a chill.” Ichabod crossed his arms as Helena nodded, just stopping herself from rolling her eyes as she made quick eye contact with Charles before following  Abbie out of the kitchen. This was _bad_.

\---------- 

“Thank you for finishing up preparing dinner, Charles. It was nice to get some fresh air. I needed it.” Abbie stated flatly. 

Charles smiled at his lovely daughter-in-law. Charles Crane had tried to subtly bring up what in the bloody hell his son was thinking, but Ichabod had pointedly changed the subject and Charles had let the matter drop. Ichabod was a man. Charles determined to treat him like one, “I was happy to do it Abbie. I’m a fair cook.” 

Abbie swallowed the perfectly prepared chicken, “More than fair. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“Well, when the baby is born and you return for a visit, you’ll have a new kitchen to break in.” Ichabod proclaimed beaming.

Abbie was the first to speak up, “Excuse me?” 

“Mum, Dad, Abbie…you are looking at the new incoming head of the Sleepy Hollow University History Department.”

As annoying as Ichabod had been the last two months, Abbie was genuinely happy about the news, “Babe! That’s wonderful. When did you find out?”

“A couple of days ago. After our success at the Social, I was back on track. Peter announced his upcoming retirement at the semester break and the university president offered me the position with the full support of the Board of Trustees.”

“I am so proud of you son.”

“Thanks Dad.” Ichabod radiated pleasure at his father’s approval, “My appointment is effective this coming academic year, but everything is in place.”

“But Ichabod, what does your appointment, obviously well-deserved, have to do with a new kitchen? Are you planning to remodel?” Helena asked, curious.

“No mum, Abbie and I are buying a new house.” Ichabod’s smile was wide and to Helena’s eyes – completely clueless. _Amazing_. 

Abbie’s fork clanked on her plate, forgotten, “What?”

Ichabod continued, his expressive fingers practically dancing with excitement, “If the house is put on the market now, we can be in the new one before the baby arrives at the end of May. The realtor I spoke to said this house will sell quickly and…” 

“Wait, back up…you spoke to a realtor about selling _my_ house and didn’t think to mention it before today?” Abbie steamed.

“Why, yes. I wanted to surprise you with all the good news at once.”

“We’re not selling this house. We have three bedroom and an unfinished basement - plenty of room.” Abbie said firmly.

“Abbie, the realtor showed me several houses with lovely first floor master bedrooms. No stairs.  That would be better at the end of your pregnancy for the…”

“If you say ‘for the baby’, I swear to God, I’ll have you signing divorce papers before you complete the sentence.” Abbie stood, furious, speaking through her clinched teeth, “How could you do this to me?”

“Abbie, Treasure, don’t be ridiculous. I’m trying to do what’s best,” Ichabod felt his voice rise and his pulse speed up. Didn’t she understand he was trying to protect her? Protect them all. “This house is lovely of course, but there are better ones out there that we can now afford.”

“Don’t be _ridiculous_? Well, know what’s _ridiculous_? You” Abbie pointed at her husband, seeing red, “…acting like I’m an invalid instead of just pregnant. I can’t even hold a goddamn knife without you taking it from me like I’m a child.” Abbie was beyond incensed, “You know what else is _ridiculous_? You thinking you’re going to sell my house – the house I worked two jobs for years to afford and purchased long before I met you - without so much as a word about it. This is _my house._ I am not selling it to avoid some damn stairs just because I’m pregnant.” Abbie snapped, “But you know what’s really _ridiculous_ Ichabod Crane? The only part of my body you’ve consistently touched in two months is the bump. Men do make love to their pregnant wives, you know, but that seems beyond you.”

“Abbie!” Ichabod stood, fingers now twitching widely at his sides. Helena and Charles shared a look. After almost 40 years of marriage, they had a silent shorthand. This could get very ugly, with the young couple saying words that might break them, the Cranes knew from experience.

“Ichabod, stay calm.” Charles implored under his breath.

“I AM CALM!” Ichabod yelled to the room, declaring the lie.

“That’s enough. Come with me, Ichabod. _Now_.” Charles tossed down his napkin as he stood and grabbed his son by the arm, practically dragging Ichabod to the office at the back of the house.  

As soon as they left the room, Abbie threw off her glasses and burst into tears. Damn pregnancy hormones. Fuck.

“Helena, I’m sorry you had to hear all that,” Abbie sniffed, wiping her tears with the napkin.

Helena sighed…what a bloody mess, “I am not a marriage counselor and even if I were, it would be a conflict for me to treat you and my son.” 

“I know that…” Abbie wiped the tears from her eyes. She felt like she’d been crying for days.

“But I will tell you this,” Helena moved to sit beside Abbie at the table, taking her hand, “I almost died when I was pregnant with Ichabod.”

“What?” Abbie exclaimed, “I didn’t know.”

“Yes..well…I don’t speak of it often. I was in a coma for two days after he was born and the doctors advised me not to have any more children. Charles was a fearful mess for years afterwards, afraid I would conceive by mistake.” 

“And Ichabod knows about this?”

“Oh yes. So while I can’t counsel you Abbie, I can say this... Ichabod isn’t so much afraid of losing the baby as he is afraid of losing you.”

“I think I understand.” Abbie was quiet, thinking of Ichabod’s behavior over the last few months.

“No, dear, I don’t think you do. Ichabod is afraid because he knows that if something happens to you and the baby, the undertaker will need to dig three graves. He won’t survive the loss.”

Abbie felt new tears sting and looked up, blinking to hold them back, instinct making her cradle the small baby bump, trying to protect their child from Helena’s stark words, “I do understand. It doesn’t excuse what he did, though.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Helena agreed gently.

“It’s funny…I thought I would be the one acting crazy right about now, not Ichabod.” Abbie pain-filled smile was mirthless.

“What do you mean?” Helena frowned her confusion.

Abbie swallowed hard and turned to face the older woman she now considered a second mother, “Ichabod and I planned on talking to you about it before you left for home, but I guess now is as good a time as any.” 

“What is it Abbie?” Helena’s voice was gentle. Kind. “ You know I will help you both if I can.”

“This is harder than I thought it would be. I need Ichabod, but…well.” Abbie shrugged helplessly, feeling alone for the first time since her wedding day, “I think my mother had some type of breakdown before she died. I want to know…” Abbie took in a deep breath to calm herself “…I need to know, could something like that happen to me?” 

Helena heard the worry and despair in Abbie’s question and saw the frightened little girl behind the woman. Helena also knew that Abbie, so brave and loving, was not interested in beating around the bush. She was asking because she needed to know, not because she wanted to be coddled. Helena responded accordingly.

“Well, there are certain mental illnesses that are thought to run in families. Two examples are schizophrenia and bipolar disorder. But even then, the chances are not high and if you were going to develop either, it’s probable you would have had some indication by now – in most cases symptoms start between the teen years and age 30 or so.” 

“Oh.” Abbie breathed a sigh…whether it was relief or not, she couldn’t say. She didn’t feel in the clear yet.  

"Do you know if your mother had either disorder and was perhaps being treated? Medical history would help greatly here.”   

“No…no. I don’t have any medical history on my mom.” Abbie sniffed, putting her glasses back on.

“If you could get more insight into your mother’s mental health, perhaps from August…or…elsewhere…we could have a more productive conversation.” Helena tried to reassure her, “But in the meantime, the most important thing you can do is to observe your own feelings and thoughts. If you feel depressed or that you want to harm yourself, tell your physician immediately. Pregnancy would necessarily complicate any treatment plan, but that doesn’t mean you have to suffer. Don’t hide from the fears, Abbie.”   

Abbie wiped the last of today’s tears. God, this was so _hard_. She needed Ichabod and found herself angry at him all over again. No, not angry, Abbie realized. _Hurt. Disappointed._

“Ok. I can do that. I will do that.” Abbie reached over to hug Helena to her, “Thank you so much. I couldn’t ask for a better mother-in-law. I love you.”

“And I love you, dear....I wonder how Ichabod is fairing with Charles. Not well, I suspect.” Helena’s eyebrow raised and Abbie discovered with wry amusement where Ichabod inherited the skill. 

Abbie smiled and tried to squash the small, petty part of herself that hoped Charles Crane was kicking his son’s ass…for the culture.

\----------

“When did it start?”

“When did what start, Dad?” Ichabod palmed his forehead. He was so tired of the tight ball of terror living in the pit of his stomach.

“When did you start treating the love of your life as if she were simply a breakable vessel for your seed?”

Ichabod stood immediately at his father’s question, livid, “I would never!”

Charles faced his son head on, equally livid. Abbie Mills Crane deserved better from her husband. “You just did! At the table. That is exactly what you did, Ichabod! So, I will ask again, when did it start?”

“The doctor,” Ichabod sighed heavily, sitting, the fight gone out of him, “One of the pre-natal visits. The assistant made some off-hand remark. I realized Abbie is a pregnant Black woman in America. Having our child could kill her. I couldn’t…I can’t get it out of my mind.” 

Ichabod looked up his father - tears in his eyes. “I still can’t. What do I do, Dad? Tell me what to do.”

“Tell me what happened.” Charles said calmly, taking a seat across from his son.

“It was the eight week pre-natal visit. The doctor asked about Abbie’s medical history. They did a complete battery of tests on her...” 

“And?”

Ichabod threw up his hands, “She’s completely healthy. All the tests came back normal. We even had an ultrasound. Our child looked like little more than a speck, but there was a heartbeat. We were having a _baby_.”

“Then what happened to bring on this…behavior?”

“The assistant nurse…she reviewed everything with us and then Abbie had to go to the restroom. While Abbie was out of the room, the nurse said not to get comfortable with the test results. The ‘outcomes for Black women’ were working against her.”

“What on earth did she mean?”

Ichabod sighed. This was so difficult. He needed Abbie. He missed his wife. “Dad, do you know Black women are 243% more likely to die from common pregnancy complications than white women in this country? 243%! If Abbie had developed what mum had, the odds say she would have died.”

Ichabod stood, pacing, his fingers twitching in his agitation, “She’s perfectly healthy. She’s young. She takes good care of herself. And she could still die from pregnancy…more than likely just because we live here.” Ichabod stopped pacing, looking his father in the eye, “This country gave me Abbie. I can’t let it take her from me.” 

Charles gave his son a long look before responding, “Let me ask you something Ichabod”, Charles mused, “How long have you lived here?”

“Pardon?” 

“How long has it been since you immigrated to the United States?”

“You know how long. About eight years.”

“Exactly. For your post-doctorate work at Harvard.” Charles watched as his son sat down, finally. “Now let me ask you this, how long has Abbie lived here?”

“Dad, she was born here, so all her life. What’s your point?”

“My point is why would you think your wife is less aware of the racial dynamics of being Black and pregnant than you…and more importantly, what makes you think she hasn’t already devised potential ways to address it?” 

Charles stood, putting his hand on his son’s shoulder, “You will always be white. Abbie will always be Black. You can certainly try and you may even come close, but you must accept that you will never know as much about what it means to be Black in this country as your wife does. You will lose Abbie if you behave as if you do.” 

“Lose Abbie?” Ichabod’s eyes shot to his father’s.

“Did you not hear her? She said she will divorce you if this behavior continues.”

“Abbie loves me, she wouldn’t…”

“What makes you think love and divorce are mutually exclusive? She loves you, without a doubt. She’s put up with this absurdity for almost two months.  But be clear, my boy, Abbie is strong. She will leave you and take your child with her…and it would be due to nothing but you letting your fear and outsized ego drive her away. Don’t do it. I almost did that with your mother and it is the biggest regret of my life.”

Helena saw Ichabod and Charles emerge from the office and stood, “Charles and I are going to check into our hotel now.”

Abbie stood as well, seeing Charles enter the dining room just ahead of Ichabod, “No, you don’t have to leave yet.”

“Yes we do,” Helena glanced briefly at her son, “You two need to talk. Don’t worry, we’ll be back tomorrow. Do you need help with anything as far as preparation?”

Abbie shook her head. Ichabod noted that she still hadn’t looked at him, “No…no, Miss Evelyn made everything and delivered it before she and Edward left for Pennsylvania. It was her Christmas present to me.”

Charles smiled, “I’m still trying to determine how my father convinced Miss Evelyn to allow him to accompany her to her great-niece’s house for Christmas. Nevertheless, I am happy for him. He is certainly less difficult to manage.”

“Yes, well…I think if Granddad were here, he would say planning is the key.” Abbie answered, smiling gently at the couple as they moved towards the coat closet and front door. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Dinner is at 2pm.  And drive safe ok?”

Abbie hugged Helena briefly before moving on to Charles. 

Ichabod bent to hug his mother tight, “I’m sorry mum.” 

“I know Ichabod,” Helena whispered, still hugging him close, “But I’m not the one who deserves to hear it. Talk to her.”

Abbie shut the door after the Crane’s left and turned, barely glancing at Ichabod. 

“Abbie…”

“I’m going to bed. I can climb the stairs, right?” She asked dryly. 

“Yes…yes, of course.”

“Gee, thanks so much,” Abbie answered with even more disdain, gesturing towards the living room.”You can sleep on the sofa.” Abbie turned to make her retreat. Tired.

“Abbie, please wait…”

“The sofa, Ichabod. Good night.”

 ----------

Abbie looked at the clock. It was 2am and she couldn’t sleep, her body reminding her once again that she really didn’t sleep well without Ichabod by her side. 

“This is bullshit,” Abbie stroked her baby bump, admonishing softly, “You could at least keep me better company, take up the slack so your mama can get some sleep.”

“Abbie…”

Abbie almost jumped out of her skin, sitting up suddenly as she heard Ichabod call her name in the dark. 

“God! For someone so concerned about the baby, you sure know how to raise my blood pressure.” 

Abbie turned on the bedside light, taking a moment for her eyes to adjust before observing her husband.  Ichabod stood in the doorway, looking like the hell she felt. Boy, weren’t they a pair? “What do you want Ichabod?” 

“I want to say I’m sorry. I want to say I’m terrified of losing you, whether to my own hubris or the systemic racism that presents constant challenges to your very existence, much less your happiness. I want to say that I am proud of what you were able to accomplish before you met me and honored that you have let me be your husband. But most of all, I want to say that not being with you – in every sense of the word – continues to be the very worst experience of my life.”

Ichabod had moved into the room while he spoke, his movement begging Abbie to let them fix what was wrong between them.

Abbie plopped back down on her back, not yet ready to talk this all out, but more than ready to get some sleep. She needed him. The rest would be sorted later.

“Get in the bed Ichabod. We both need sleep. We’ll have a houseful of guests tomorrow.”

Ichabod got under the covers and Abbie turned off the light. She didn’t snuggle into him like she typically did, turning away from him on her side, but Ichabod was hopeful. When he awoke the next morning, Abbie was in his arms, ready perhaps, for Ichabod to hold her again when she awoke.

\----------

“Jenny, Joe, August!” Abbie hugged her family one after the other has they entered the house. Jenny had decided to stay with August while she was in town, telling Abbie “My room is too close to your bedroom...I need to keep my church mouse innocence.” Abbie had thrown a pillow at her head…again.

“We’ll sit down for dinner as soon as Helena and Charles get here.” Abbie said. “Get comfortable in the living room.”  While August and Joe made small talk with Ichabod, Jenny followed Abbie into the kitchen. “Hey, sis. You look tired. My niece kicking your ass?”

“Jenny, you know I could be having a boy.” 

Jenny took a chip, popping it in her mouth, “Nope. It’s a girl. We need two generations of Mills women in the world.”

“I love you Jenny.” Abbie felt the tears forming. Damn pregnancy hormones.

“Hey…hey. I love you too.” Jenny put her arm around her best friend, “What’s going on?”

“Part pregnancy hormones. Part idiot husband.” Abbie sniffed.

“What did Tall, Dark and British do? Need me to make him disappear?”

Abbie laughed. “No, not yet.”

“Listen Abs. All I know is I’ve never seen you as happy as you are with him. Whatever is going on with you two, you deserve to be that happy again.”

“Thanks…and take your own advice.”

“I _am_ happy. I cut Frank loose finally. He needs someone who wants to stay,” Jenny shrugged, “I’m not there yet. Maybe I’ll never be. Doesn’t matter though. I’ll always have my sister.” 

“Damn right.”

“Hello Ladies.” Helena entered the kitchen.

“Hi Helena.”

“Hi Jenny. It’s good to see you again.”

“You too,” Jenny prided herself in knowing when it was time to make a graceful exit. If the look exchanged between Abbie and Helena was anything to go on, it was time.

“Listen, I’m going to go tease our baby brother about his appalling lack of a love life.” Jenny made to leave the women to the conversation they obviously wanted to have, “Ten minutes until dinner?” Jenny responded to Abbie’s nod, “I’ll let everyone know.”

“How are you this morning?”

“Better,” Abbie hedged, “We exchanged presents. He made me tea. I made us breakfast. We took a walk. Better…”

“But you have yet to talk things out fully?”

“No…not really, but we will. Listen, Helena…can we just…”

“Happy Christmas, Abbie.” Helena’s slight smile was understanding.

“Merry Christmas, Helena.” Abbie’s reply was grateful, as always, for that understanding.

\----------

Abbie looked down the dining table, content for the first time in what felt like months. This was her family. Her world. They had eaten Miss Evelyn’s gifted meal, including three whole pies and were sitting talking. It was time.

Ichabod watched Abbie leave the room and return with a large shopping bag. His fear screamed at him to take her to task for carrying something he deemed too heavy, but he suppressed it. Abbie placed a wrapped box in front of each person, ending with him, before returning to her seat.

“I know each of you have already gotten a present from Ichabod and me, but this is from Baby Crane.” Abbie smiled gleefully and gestured to the table, “Go ahead. Open them.”

August Corbin was the first to get his box open, taking out the custom made coffee mug and reading it aloud, “Future World’s Best Grandfather. Baby Crane. Due May 29, 2018,”  August looked down the table, his gruff demeanor not quite hiding the lump in his throat,“Abbie…grandfather…”

“Of course. Our baby has two grandfathers.” Abbie nodded emphatically, “Dad.”

“Abbie’s right...Dad.” Jenny joined, having opened her mug. “Although we already know I’m going to be the world’s best aunt, so…” Jenny shrugged, her joke giving August the cover he needed to regain some composure. He always referred to Abbie and Jenny as his foster daughters out of respect for them. He was touched and felt blessed that they were now simply his daughters and he was their Dad. “Thank you Abbie,” he said saluting her with the mug.

Abbie’s smile lit up the room, “You’re welcome.”

“Ichabod, you haven’t opened yours.”

“Oh, sorry mum.” The table watched as Ichabod tore the wrapping, opened the box and pulled out his mug. It was different from the others. 

“Oh, Treasure…” He said, awed. On one side of the mug was the image from their eight week ultrasound showing the bean-like shape of their child. Ichabod turned over the mug reading aloud, “I love you, Daddy. Baby Crane. Due May 29, 2018.”

Ichabod looked down the table, not even trying to stop the tears in his eyes.

“I love you Abbie…more than I will ever be able to express. I can't...I can't live without you.  Thank you for your patience with me,  for allowing me the blessed honor of being your husband and the father of your child.” 

Abbie sniffled discretely, looking down the table at the faces of her family, born and made.

“I love you too, Ichabod. Forever…even when I want to hit you over the head with a shovel and bury you in the backyard.”

“And I am most grateful.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, the stat about Black women and pregnancy is true. Completely true.


	17. The Rain is Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichabod and Abbie make up from their Christmas Eve fight and both discover just how much their baby wants them to be happy. This is 3700 words of shameless ichabbie smut with a smidgen of plot to appease the fanfic gods. I make no apologies...except of course for any errors. Comments are welcome as always. Thanks for reading.

Abbie plopped in the corner of the sofa as Ichabod closed the door on the last of their guests and made his way to her side. 

“May I sit with you?” Ichabod asked somewhat tentatively. He knew things were better between them. but was no longer under the delusion that they were good. 

But he couldn’t help once again admiring her. For Christmas Dinner, Abbie wore low heels and a bright red, long sleeve, boat neck dress that skimmed her baby bump and came to just above her knees when standing. Of course that meant that right now Ichabod was staring at seeming miles of beautiful leg as the dress stopped at mid-thigh. 

“If you want to,” Abbie sighed out her exhaustion, oblivious to Ichabod’s thoughts. Even though Miss Evelyn had made the meal, Abbie still had a decent amount of prep to do with not a lot of sleep. Plus her feet hurt, she acknowledged, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet under her on the sofa in an attempt to relieve the pressure.

“Are your feet sore? Would you care for a massage?”

“That would be great. Thank you.” Abbie stretched her legs across the sofa as Ichabod went to get lotion. Upon his return, he sat at the end, reverently placed Abbie’s tiny feet in his lap, pumped lotion into his hands and started to work on the muscles of her left foot. Ichabod’s long, strong fingers were heavenly on her tired muscles. “Oh God, that feels so good.” Abbie groaned and her walls clenched, reminding her that even being pissed at Ichabod didn’t keep her body from wanting to ride him.  

Abbie closed her eyes and simply enjoyed being touched. Ichabod’s hands on her were one of the best things in her life. 

“Abbie…” Ichabod heard how tentative he sounded. It couldn’t be helped. He felt tentative. 

“Mmmmm…” 

Ichabod moved to Abbie’s right foot, having throughly massaged the tension away on her left, “I’m very happy you told me about your conversation with my mother regarding your mental health concerns and…I owe you an apology, Treasure.”

Abbie raised her head from the arm of the sofa to look at her husband, “I know you do.” Abbie put her head back down, closing her eyes again, listening. 

Ichabod took a deep breath before continuing, “You are so strong and so very brilliant. In my fear over not being able to protect you…and our child, I forgot that you don’t need my protection.”

Abbie sighed, lifting her head to look at him again, “Baby, I love it when you’re protective of me. It makes me feel…cherished. What I don’t need,” Abbie said firmly, “what I will not accept, is being treated like I don’t have a brain in my head or don't know how to take care of myself or run my life.”

“I know…” Ichabod continued to massage Abbie’s foot, making sure to press the sole. A moan of pleasure that went straight to his cock was his reward. 

“Your hands…mmmm…”

Ichabod shifted, adjusting…trying to be a gentleman. “Abbie, may I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“How did we come to have the OB/GYN we do?” Abbie had simply told Ichabod that they had an appointment with the “best doctor for us” and Ichabod had unreservedly taken her at her word. 

“Dr. Chen? I researched all the local doctors when we decided to go off birth control,” Abbie yawned, eyes closed again, “She’s a really good doctor, but more importantly, her outcomes for women of color are statistically the same as her non-women of color patients. She’s the only doctor in the area that can say that. Plus, I just like her.” Abbie shrugged. 

“So, you were mitigating the risk of potential healthcare disparities?”

“As much as I can, yes.”

“That’s what I was trying to do as well…rather clumsily, I’m afraid.”

“The problem is you were trying to control me, thinking that would control the situation.”

Abbie lifted her head to catch Ichabod’s eye, “Ichabod. Look at me,” Abbie waited for her husband to do as she asked, “I won’t let you do that to me again.” 

“Nor will I try,” He assured sincerely, “Not that I’m assigning blame…why did you tolerate it for this long?”

“Because I love you. Because I thought it was some kind of Baby Daddy thing you would eventually get over,” Abbie hesitated, “And if I’m being honest, because I was feeling a little scared.”

Ichabod stopped the massage and reached for Abbie’s hand, “Why were you scared?”

“My body was changing. I was nauseous most mornings. Tired most evenings.” Abbie looked down, twisting her hand against Ichabod’s, “I thought you might be like Elvis…”

“Elvis? I don’t…” 

“After his wife got pregnant, he didn’t really want to touch her anymore. I don’t know…”

“Abbie, believe me, we do not have that concern.” Ichabod released her hand and moved her right foot, pressing it against his groin. Abbie could feel all of him. Rock hard.  _Damn_ _._  “Trust me Treasure, I’ve been holding myself in check for the last month. Literally.”

“Well, I went through two packets of batteries,” Abbie countered sourly. 

Ichabod’s reply was teasing, “And you didn’t let me watch. I’m hurt.”

Abbie sucked her teeth good-naturedly, “I could say the same thing about you. Leaving me without the sight of your beautiful cock for all this time. Damn cruel.” 

Ichabod chuckled slightly…and blushed if he were honest, before turning serious…wanting, no needing, to explain himself. 

“You said so yourself. You were nauseous in the morning and tired in the evening. My body’s near constant desire for you felt unseemly. Add to that the concern I felt for your safety and I…”

“Stepped back from me.”

“With my body. Never my heart. Not for a moment.” Ichabod was earnest in his need for Abbie not to feel rejected. 

Abbie’s slight nod let Ichabod know she understood and he breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Well, I’m apparently in the part of my pregnancy where my libido comes roaring back with a vengeance. You up for that?” Abbie smirked. 

“I am a Crane man – always up for a challenge when it comes to pleasing the women we love,” said, giving her one of his patented side long glances.

“We’ll see...” Abbie leaned her head back against the sofa arm, closing her eyes, content to discover where this would go…for the moment. 

Ichabod massaged Abbie’s calf muscles, acknowledging to himself that he simply wanted to feel her skin. “You have such beautiful skin, Treasure.” He murmured, almost to himself, “I remember thinking it when I first saw you, how incredibly beautiful you were. How small, but perfect.”

“And I remember thinking what a cute dork you were,” Abbie laughed, her eyes still closed, “I could tell what you were doing, muttering to yourself. I thought, why doesn’t he just ask me. Stop wasting time.”  

“I was simply in awe of you, Abbie.” Ichabod looked at his wife’s legs, admiring the silken skin, moving his hands up further with each pass of his hand, “I’d never experienced anything like it before…knowing immediately that my heart belonged to you.”

Abbie shifted, unconsciously moving to bring Ichabod’s fingers closer to her core, where she wanted…needed to feel him. 

“Are you…are you saying it was love at first sight?”

“First sight, second sight…a thousandth sight.” Ichabod’s hand had reached Abbie’s inner thigh, pushing her shift dress up with no shame. “I could see your face a million times over a thousand years and my reaction would be the same…unrepentantly besotted.”

“I wasn’t far behind you. Your eyes…God....and your hands,” Abbie moaned, moving her head from side to side, remembering, “I told you my name and your hand just completely surrounded mine. You were firm, but so gentle.” Abbie slid further down on the sofa, the movement lifting her skirt to the top of her hips. She had him almost there…”I wanted to know where else your hands could be firm but gentle.”

“You minx!” Ichabod huffed our a laugh, not even pretending anymore he didn’t desperately want to feel Abbie’s folds. But they were taking this slowly and so he would stay the course.

Abbie lifted her head, her eyes opening to meet Ichabod’s “What?! It’s not my fault you’re so sexy. You’re beautiful, Ichabod. I thought your eyes were sunshine, did you know that? And I loved how tall you were, with big hands, big feet and well…big other things.”

“You are trying to kill me,” Ichabod groaned a response, half moving under her legs so he could reach his goal unimpeded. He felt the fabric of her panties, wet and his eyebrow raised in question. Her slight nod was all the permission he needed, reaching up to pull her underwear off, Abbie lifted her hips helping him. Ichabod shifted, raising onto his knees and settled between his wife’s perfect thighs, “Tell me Treasure, do you want my hands or my mouth?”

“Why do I have to chose? Can’t I have both?” Abbie asked with a teasing whine. 

“Absolutely my love,” Ichabod sat back on his hunches, moving his hands up and down Abbie’s thighs, waiting to make her wish his command, “What would you like first?”

“Hmmm,” Abbie pretended to deliberate, “Your mouth…I love how your beard feels against my clit.”

“May I request room to…maneuver?”

“Upstairs?”

“Upstairs.” Abbie smiled at Ichabod as helped her rise from the sofa, walking hand and hand up to their bedroom. 

\----------

“Leave the light off, ok?”

“Why, Treasure?” Ichabod could see Abbie’s outline even with the lights off. The moon was out that night and shined into the windows. 

“I just…I just want it off.”

“As you wish,” he replied lovingly. And that was his aim, not only to apologize for his behavior but to love her, not as the mother of his child, but as the keeper of his heart…the love of his life. Ichabod lifted Abbie’s chin, cupping her cheek with his other hand and kissed her deeply. 

She met him, opening, seeking to taste him on her tongue. She captured his bottom lip between her own, sucking slightly – earning a groan from him. Ichabod broke the kiss and moved behind Abbie, sliding the zipper down while peppering her neck with kisses, rubbing his beard along her skin, making her shake and shiver with need. The dress hung off Abbie’s now larger breasts and Ichabod moved the fabric down her front, teasing her nipples along the way, 

“Mmmm…yes”

“Good, Treasure?” Ichabod asked moving the straps down her arms, exposing the large, heavy perfect globes to his attention. 

“Yes. Oh God, baby…” Abbie cried out in reaction to Ichabod passing over her nipples with his thumbs. “Please…touch me.”

“Where? Tell me what you need.”

“Everywhere. I need you everywhere.”

Ichabod unhooked the bra and palmed Abbie’s breasts, alternating between squeezing them and rolling the nipples between this thumbs and forefingers while kissing the places along her neck that he knew would make her knees buckle. 

“I...I need to lay down. Stop for a second.” Abbie let the dress fall to her feet and turned in his arms, naked. 

“You are exquisite,” Ichabod whispered as if speaking of the divine. “You are more beautiful every day.”

“So are you. But you have too many clothes on,” Abbie covered up the lump in her throat with a quibble, moving around Ichabod to pull back the covers and get in the bed, “Why don’t you take care of that and get over here?”

Abbie watched Ichabod remove his blue, button down shirt and toss it to the floor. Next were his loafers followed by the khaki pants Abbie had picked out for him along with his underwear. He stood up – breathing steadily but his cock standing proud betrayed his air of calm. 

“I believe, wife of mine, the command was my beard against your clit,” Ichabod smiled as he sauntered to the side of the bed, pulling back the cover and settling between Abbie’s thighs. He lightly touched her folds, sliding one finger inside and curling it against her. Abbie moaned her pleasure, but she wanted more. That was a finger, not lips. 

Abbie lifted her head to see Ichabod observing her in the darkness, “Are you doing a medical exam down there?”

“No…just giving your beautiful pussy the attention and care it deserves,” Abbie felt the puff of air right before Ichabod kissed her, sucking lightly on her clit while twisting the finger being clinched by her walls. 

Abbie arched her back with an almost yelp, “God, don’t stop. Please.”  His groan into her core was the only reply before he sucked harder, almost bringing her clit completely into his mouth. The climax was instantaneous and overwhelming. Abbie lifted her hips lost in the sensation but Ichabod held her down gently, pushing her higher by sucking and licking even harder, his beard awash in the rush of her juices. 

“Mmmm…you taste so sweet. I want more.” Ichabod declared before delving his tongue deeply into her pussy, alongside his finger, determined to not waste a drop of what her body had to give.

“Ichabod,” Abbie felt delirious. She could feel another climax barreling down like a freight train. “I…”

“Again,” he commanded and rubbed his chin against her clit, the friction of his beard pushing Abbie over the edge once more. Ichabod pushed in a second finger, feeling her walls clamp around him even tighter.

“Oh, Baby, what are you doing to me?” Abbie wailed as she tangled her fingers in his hair. Her entire body was awash in the pleasure he was giving her. 

Abbie knew she was practically gushing juices and Ichabod was eating her like a man starved. “More. I need more.” Ichabod sounded almost desperate.

“I don’t know if I can…” Abbie huffed out a half laugh looking down at him. 

“Please Treasure. I need more.” He pleaded, “One more. You taste too good.”

Abbie felt her walls strongly contract as his words…as did he, looking up at her with a clear smirk that Abbie saw even in the semi-darkness.  _Cocky ass._  

Abbie put her head back down and felt three of Ichabod’s long fingers stretch her open. He twisted them in unison and then spread them apart, opening her pussy to his tongue. “Oh my god!”

“That’s it, let me have it,” his murmur against her clit sent vibrations from her toes to the top of her head. Abbie knew she couldn’t stop it if she tried, “Uh…Ahh…Ahhhh...ohhhh sooo good!,” Ichabod sucked and licked through the third climax, not giving any quarter as Abbie tried to come down, “Ichabod, please stop,” Abbie’s breathing was heavy with exertion. “Please baby, I can’t take anymore.”

Ichabod kissed her clit once final time and crawled up to her side, now even more mindful of her petite size. His kiss was deep, letting Abbie taste herself – pulling one last groan from her spent body. 

“Sleep, Treasure,” he whispered, pulling Abbie into his arms to spoon her. 

“What about you?” Abbie asked yawning.  She could feel his still hard cock against her ass. As much as she wanted to take care of him, she honestly didn’t know if she had it in her. She was so  _tired_. 

“I’m fine. Sleep.” Ichabod kissed the side of her neck and placed his hands around her expanded waist, cradling her against him. Within minutes, she was asleep. 

\----------

Ichabod awoke to the dream like feeling of Abbie’s ass rubbing against his groin.  Shifting to kiss her neck, he felt his cock catch on the clift between her cheeks while going from flaccid to rock hard in a seeming instant. 

“Hmmm…I love how fast you get hard for me,” Abbie murmured sleepily. 

Ichabod pressed against her backside, slipping happily between the cheeks of her perfect ass. Perhaps some day…. “I must admit. So do I,” he replied kissing up Abbie’s neck to her jawline. “Are you hungry, Treasure? I can make breakfast.”

Abbie turned over, pushing Ichabod on to his back as she rose to her knees, “No, not hungry. Baby Crane doesn’t want food right now.”

“Oh, what does Baby Crane desire this morning?” Ichabod luxuriated in the feeling of Abbie’s small hands moving up and down his chest – tangling and pulling slightly on the dusting of hair. 

Abbie leaned over and pulled his right nipple into her mouth, biting slightly before whispering against his skin, “Baby Crane wants mama to get laid.”

“How generous of Baby Crane, after months of morning sickness,” Ichabod replied, moaning softly, eyebrow lifting. 

Abbie straddled his legs, bringing his fully hard cock against her folds as she moved her hand up and over the shaft, collecting and smearing the pre-cum there. “Isn’t it though?” Abbie teasingly laughed, rubbing the baby bump with her free hand, “Good job, Baby Crane. Keep looking out for your mama.”

Abbie leaned down and kissed Ichabod, still stroking him firmly. He opened his mouth, reaching into her mouth with his tongue, dueling, exploring. Loving. “Mmmm, so good.” He murmured before pulling her to him again. He felt Abbie release his cock only to shamelessly rub her pussy against him, lifting her hips to catch him on her clit, over and over again while dueling his tongue with her own.

 “Treasure…Papa Crane wants to get laid too, not explode against your clit.” He implored, feeling his balls tighten with her movement. 

“Well then…” Abbie lifted to hover over his cock. The damn thing had a mind of its own and Ichabod swore he felt it lurch towards her warmth and wetness. He wouldn’t be surprised. 

Placing one hand on her hip, Ichabod used his other to place himself into position as Abbie lowered herself onto him. 

“Damn!” Abbie exclaimed, stopping her movements. 

“What is it?”

“Did you get bigger or did I get tighter?” Abbie huffed out a breath, “Either way, we need to take this slow. Ok?”

Ichabod put his hands to his sides compliant, “I am yours to use as you see fit,”

“Dangerous words to say to a horny pregnant lady,” Abbie teased drily as she slid down his cock, rocking slightly to encourage her body to accept more of his considerable length.  

“Oh God, you are so big. Ok…” Another bit slid into Abbie’s increasingly willing body and she touched her breasts, cupping the globes and then reaching for Ichabod’s hands, placing them over her nipples as she leaned back against his legs. He squeezed, twisting them slightly and Abbie felt herself get wetter and fully engulf him, holding him still and blessed within her. 

“Are you well?”

“Yes…whew!” Abbie moved her hips back and forth, essentially grinding on him as it was easier for her than lifting up and down. Ichabod felt his cock hit against Abbie’s walls and his eyes rolled in the back of his head. 

“You feel so good, Treasure. So tight…and…wet.” Ichabod said behind closed eyes, concentrating on not grabbing Abbie’s hips and moving her faster as his body was screaming at him to do. 

“You feel good too, baby....oh, yes. Right there. Right there.” Abbie held herself, moving slightly back and forth, rubbing the head of Ichabod’s cock against her spot. She felt the rush of wetness and the need to move faster that came with it. “I need to ride you baby. I need to ride you so bad.”

“Please. Please.” Ichabod opened his eyes and was astonished to see Abbie leaning back, breasts towards the ceiling, head down riding him with a look on her face that said there was nothing else she’d rather do in life. At that moment, even the baby bump was sexy, he thought with a small tinge of guilt, quickly dismissed. She was lush with life and he was grateful to see it. 

Abbie shifted and braced her hands on his chest, grinding back and forth…faster and faster. His cock rocked within her exquisitely and his balls tightened, but Ichabod refused to go over without his wife fully satisfied.

Reaching with his right hand, he pressed his thumb against her clit, “I’m not going to come without you Abbie,” he said behind clinched teeth. Determined. 

“Ok,” she acknowledged, shaking her head as she closed her eyes, lost to how good she felt, “Yes, right there…oh God…yes…right there.” Abbie was moving back and forth, her strong runners thighs helping her keep up the pace even as she started to sweat lightly. Ichabod felt her release more wetness as her walls started to flutter around him. She was close. 

He pressed firmly against her clit, using the pad of his thumb to move against it, giving Abbie the friction she needed to fall into her climax with a low, thankful moan, “Mmmm…so good.”

Ichabod grabbed her hips, moving with Abbie through the climax as he felt his balls tighten and groaned his own powerfully long release, his expression almost one of pain, “Ahhh. Ohhhh.”

After a moment of recovery, Ichabod sat up, and wrapped his arms around Abbie, still deeply joined to her. He brought his mouth to hers, kissing gently. Thankful. Loving. 

“You know,” Abbie said, pecking at Ichabod’s lips and stroking his beard, “Baby Crane is a giver.”

Ichabod touched Abbie everywhere he could – down her spine, across her backside and up again, finally landing at her face, cupping her gently in his large hands. “Indeed.  Is Baby Crane hungry after so generously letting mama get laid?”

“Yes actually.” Abbie smiled and Ichabod thought it more than rivaled the morning sunshine streaming into the bedroom, “The baby wants pie.”

A soft kiss and a question, “Pie? I thought we finished all the pies at dinner yesterday?”

Abbie put her arms around Ichabod’s neck, laughing – feeling lighter and new, even as he softened inside of her, “Now you know Miss Evelyn taught me better than that…there’s a whole pie in the garage refrigerator.” Abbie rubbed her nose against Ichabod’s and continued in mock seriousness. 

“And I would suggest you just bring the pie and two forks, babe. We’re not leaving this bed until after lunch.”

Ichabod raised an eyebrow in silent astonishment at Abbie’s declaration, “Well, as Miss Evelyn might say in her inestimable way: Praise Jesus!” 


	18. Roses and Candlelight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is my entry for the 2018 #ichabbievalentines celebration...a bit early but better than late, yes? Abbie and Crane babysit, Bram and Sharon take their relationship to the next level and Edward strikes a bargain.
> 
> Enjoy! As always, mistakes are my own and comments are always welcome. Also, I have a youtube playlist to go with this fic. It is A.Mills - Librarian and I am adding to it with each update.
> 
> Finally, this update is dedicated to ichabbie fanfic hall of fame fanfic cheer reader Erika. Her support, mood boards, comments and love of "feels and fluff" are inspiring. I hope this update leaves you in a puddle of feels, girl! Much love.

Abbie turned out of the Sleepy Hollow Library parking lot when her phone started to ring. She pressed the dashboard display screen to answer the call,

“Hey Sharon! What’s up?” 

“You’re in your car.”

“Yes, on my way to Dr. Chen. Are you ok?”

“Everything’s fine...listen, I’ll be quick… remember how I asked if you would watch the kids overnight for me if I needed it?”

Abbie turned right at the corner, about three blocks away from the doctor’s office, “Yes…are you asking me?”

“I think so…” Abbie heard the pause in Sharon’s voice, gathering her nerve, “Bram is flying in for Valentine’s Day. We’re just supposed to have coffee again, but…I want to tell him to take me to dinner…I’m ready Abbie.”

“Oh, ok” Abbie replied lowly, lacing her words with meaning. “So you need me to watch the kids on Valentine’s Day?”

 “Yes, but if you and Ichabod have plans, I’ll figure something else out –“ 

“Sharon, stop right there. I got you. End of discussion.” Abbie pulled into the parking lot of the doctor’s office and saw Ichabod waiting for her by the door. 

Sharon fought back the sudden tears and the lump in her throat. Abbie had given her unconditional support for years, “You’re my sister, you know that right?” 

“Yes...but don’t tell Jenny. She’s the jealous type,” Abbie joked before saying seriously. “I love you too, Sharon. Text me the details for Saturday, ok? I’ll let Ichabod know we’re babysitting. It’ll be fun. And Sharon, I’m happy for you. I hope you know that.” 

“I do. Thanks Abbie.”

Abbie turned off her car after disconnecting the call, gathered her purse and walked towards Ichabod. The bright February sun caught the light brown streaks in his hair and Abbie could see the blue of his eyes. She couldn’t hold back the slight shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. Ichabod Crane was a beautiful man- inside and out - and Abbie felt damned lucky he was hers. Ichabod saw her smile and opened his arms, welcoming her in a hug. 

“Treasure,” Ichabod lowered his lips to Abbie, kissing softly before deepening the kiss with a low groan, “I know it’s only been a few hours since I’ve been inside you, but seeing you walk towards me just now… so beautiful, I find I’m greedy. I want you again.”

Abbie swallowed hard, _damn_. “Baby...later. Promise.” Abbie stepped back and waited for Ichabod to open the office door for her, exhaling to calm her libido.

“Very well,” he sighed with false drama, “Just know I fully intend to hold you to that promise, Mrs. Crane.”

\----------

“Well, Abbie…Ichabod, how are you feeling today?” Dr. Elise Chen pulled a stool addressing the couple with her trademark wide smile.

Abbie really liked Dr. Chen. The Chinese-American woman was even shorter than Abbie, at less than five feet tall. She was about fifty years old, with an impressive resume – great schools as well as board certified in OB/GYN and Family Medicine. Mother of two adorable pre-teen girls (Abbie saw them often at the library with their Dad, Sam – an ER doctor at Sleepy Hollow Hospital) and in her spare time, she competed in triathlons. Abbie honestly wanted to be Elise Chen when she grew up.

“Pretty good,” Abbie answered for both of them.

“Pretty good?” Elise asked, “You’re sure? Don’t sugar coat if things aren’t great.” In Dr. Chen’s experience Black women tended to downplay pain or symptoms – for a multitude of reasons - and her equitable outcomes started with her patients feeling comfortable telling her the truth.

“No, I feel really good,” Abbie glanced at Ichabod, knowing this might be hard even though they’d discussed it, “And I want to ask you something. Before I got pregnant, I ran almost every day. Can I start running again? I really miss it.” Abbie felt Ichabod tense, but this was something she needed and Abbie was happy he supported her, even if he didn’t love the idea.

Dr. Chen quickly looked over her notes. “I think it’s possible. Let’s finish you’re exam first and then discuss it.”

Elise moved to Abbie’s side, getting the ultrasound machine ready and putting gel on Abbie’s 21-week pregnant stomach. “Now, you two don’t want to know the sex of the baby, correct?” 

“That’s correct. Abbie and I wish to be surprised.”

“Ok. Shouldn’t be a problem. I haven’t spilled the beans on any parent yet,” she replied, smiling. “Ok, Baby Crane…let’s see how you’re doing today.”

As soon as the wand was placed on Abbie’s stomach, they heard the heartbeat of the baby, rapid but steady. Dr. Chen maneuvered the wand and Ichabod could see the baby’s head clearly.

“So beautiful,” he whispered to himself, always overcome with seeing their child nestled within Abbie.

He heard Abbie chuckle and ask, “Is the baby sucking it’s thumb?”

Dr. Chen clicked a picture of the image for the parents, “Yup. Seems so.” 

“Ichabod, I think the baby has your nose,” Abbie said, reaching for his hand to squeeze affectionately.

“I hope not. I want nothing but for our child to be healthy and to look just like you.”

“I can’t say the baby will look just like Abbie, but I’m happy to say Baby Crane looks very healthy. Weight and length are good. Extremities are growing appropriately and I’m happy with all of mama’s vitals as well.”

“That is a relief,” Abbie breathed out.

“Indeed.”

“No you two close your eyes. I need to see whether you’re having a boy or a girl.” Dr. Chen waited until their eyes were closed and moved the wand, seeing what she needed, “Ok. You can open your eyes now.” Dr. Chen advised, turning off the machine and handing Abbie paper towels to wipe off the gel. 

“Well, Abbie…I don’t see any reason why you can’t start up light running a few days a week. Start small…two miles at most…and jog…no outright running.”

“That’s great,” Abbie beamed, happy to get back to a movement she loved even for short distances.

Elise glanced over at Ichabod and noticed he’d gone slightly pale, “And have some company…Ichabod, it wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to jog along with Abbie, if you like running.”

“I shall learn to like it," Ichabod promised drily.

“Sound good,” Dr. Chen rose to leave, “You booked your next appointment?” Abbie nodded, “Great. It was good seeing you both. Don’t forget to get your picture on the way out. We’ll also send you an email of it so you can send it out to family.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” 

Abbie rose to get dressed and smiled at Ichabod’s grimace about keeping her company while she jogged. “At least it’s not yoga.” Abbie said teasingly.

Ichabod’s sigh was deep and heartfelt.

\----------

The next day, Ichabod had just closed the door to his office when he felt his mobile phone vibrate. Taking it out of his pocket, he saw who was calling and swiped to answer, “Hi Dad” 

“Hello Ichabod. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No, I’m just walking to my next class. Is something wrong?”

“Have you spoken to your grandfather?”

“No…I mean other than to confirm his arrival tomorrow, but he said he didn’t need a ride into town. Is he alright?”

“Yes…yes. He plans to propose to Evelyn Johnson on Valentine’s Day.”

Ichabod stopped walking and sat on a bench in the courtyard right by his class. He would have to be a few minutes late, “What? What makes him think she’ll say yes?”

Ichabod felt his father’s sigh of frustration all the way from his parents home in Oxfordshire, “Honestly, I don’t know that he believes she will say yes.”

“Then why is he asking?”

“He has a plan of some kind.” Charles was frustrated,  “Look, Ichabod, I don’t know. I wanted to tell you in case the entire thing becomes a bloody mess and your grandfather needs you.”

“Of course. I will help as needed.”

Charles sighed musing, “In many ways my father and I are oil and water – completely different. But he is my _father_ and there is nothing I wouldn’t do for him.”

Charles heard Ichabod chuckle, “You find this funny?” 

“No, but I was just thinking that in thirty years or so, I might very well be having a similar conversation with my child about you.”

“We should be so fortunate,” Ichabod heard the wry smile in his father’s voice. “Are we so very different, you and I?”

Ichabod took a moment to consider the question. He couldn’t imagine his father leaving England and settling in a foreign country. He couldn’t imagine his father as a department chair – he was quite content with the simple professorship that gave him ample time for leisure reading and other interests. But from his father, Ichabod knew he learned not only to love knowledge for its own sake, but how to love his wife and ultimately, the kind of father he wanted to be. 

“I think,” Ichabod replied with great affection, “you and I are alike in all the ways that truly matter. I’m grateful you’re my father.”

Charles small sigh was one of relief…and pride, “And I’m grateful you’re my son.”

“Dad, I don’t want to run, but I’ll be late for class.” Ichabod knew if anyone would understand his need to end the call, it would be Professor Charles Crane.

“Yes…yes, of course. Oh and thank you for the picture of the baby sucking it’s thumb. Your mother is having a print of it framed as we speak.” Ichabod laughed, enjoying that his father wasn’t exaggerating in the slightest.

“You’re welcome. Bye, Dad.”

Ichabod gathered his satchel and walked into the small lecture hall, just beating one of his students to the door, “Oh, Hello Mrs. Smythkowski. Ready for our reading today?”

Paula Smythkowski smiled at her new favorite professor. “I am. Do you think we’ll have time to delve more deeply into the support of Free Blacks for the Revolution? I really enjoyed the discussion we had last time.”

Ichabod winked at the older woman, holding the door open for her to pass, “I’ll see what I can do.”

\----------

“So this is where the magic happens,” Ichabod looked up from putting his class notes into his satchel to see his friend striding towards the lectern.

“Bram! What are you doing here?”

“Come to see you, obviously. 

“Well, your timing is impeccable. I was about to get some lunch and go back to my office before my next class. I have about an hour or so. Would you care to join me?”

He nodded, “Sounds good.”

Bram opened the sandwich paper and bit into the pastrami and swiss panini, wondering how to start the conversation. Ichabod was not a idiot – Bram didn’t show up unannounced without a reason.

Ichabod was sitting behind his desk and gave his friend a sly side eye, before asking, “So Bram, why are you really here?”

“How did you know Abbie was the one for you?”

Ichabod’s eyebrow rose involuntarily in surprise, but he answered with unrestrained honesty, “She told me her name.”

“Come on, Ichabod,” Bram was incredulous to say the least.

“You asked. I answered,” Ichabod’s shrug was unbothered, “I looked into her eyes. I took her hand. She told me her name.”

“That can’t be all there was to it.”

“No, but I knew I wanted desperately for there to be more to it and thankfully, there was.” Ichabod took up his tuna fish sandwich asking, “Why do you want to know?” and bit into the deli special.

“Sharon and I are having dinner on Saturday – Valentine’s Day." 

Ichabod finished chewing, “I know. Abbie and I are watching the kids Saturday night. Over night…” Ichabod added meaningfully, observing his friend’s tangible discomfort. 

“I’ve never…I’ve never been…this nervous before.” Bram put his sandwich to the side and leaned on the front of Ichabod’s desk. “I’ve done things _for_ Sharon and _avoided_ doing things _with_ Sharon that I never thought possible. My God, Ichabod…do you know how much I hate Starbuck’s coffee?” Bram threw up his hands and huffed out a laugh, half serious, as if defeated. 

“You think you might love Sharon?” 

“Yes…I believe I do. But it scares the hell out of me.” He admitted, sitting back in the chair.

“And knowing you as I do, it should scare you. Sharon is not a woman for the trifling...not to mention her children.”

“She’s talked about the four of us spending time together.” Bram sighed, “Her son…”

“He will be tough on you. AJ’s very attached to his father’s memory, as well as very protective of his mother and you _must_ respect that…never mind that you’d be the only father Izzy would ever know. But put aside AJ and Izzy for a moment.” Ichabod leaned his elbows on his desk, lunch forgotten, “Do you _want_ to be a father?”

“I’ve never given it much thought. Didn’t seem to matter. So, I don’t know, but I do know I want to be a father to any and all of Sharon’s children. The idea of someone else…” Ichabod met his friend’s suddenly steely blue eyes, “It’s unacceptable.”

Ichabod looked at his watch, seeing it was time for his next class, “I think you have your answer, my friend.”

“Yes,” Bram agreed, gathering the remnants of his lunch to leave his best friend to his day, “I think I do.”

\----------

“Alright! We have pizza coming later, but I thought it’d be fun to make chocolate chip cookies for dessert. What do you think?” Abbie asked enthusiastically of AJ and Izzy.

Sharon had dropped off the pair with their overnight bags, hugging them both with a kiss and a warning to ‘behave for Aunt Abbie and Uncle Ichabod…or else.’” Abbie smiled at her friend, silently sending her good wishes for her evening with Bram. Abbie so wanted Sharon to find love again.

“I wanna make chocolate chip cookies!” Izzy said, practically jumping up and down. AJ was predictably less enthusiastic. “Ok.”

Abbie lead the trio into the kitchen, where she had the ingredients all ready, “But you know….we can’t make cookies without the special cookie making music.”

“Cookie making music.  That’s funny.” Izzy giggled as her brother helped her sit on a kitchen stool, “You can’t have cookie making music!”

“Oh yes you can,” Abbie teased bending to be eye level with the almost seven year old, looking at Izzy over the top of her glasses. “When I was not much younger than you, my mommy would make cookies for me and my sister and if we helped, she always put on the special cookie making music.”

“And what music is that, Treasure?” Ichabod asked, grinning, never having heard this story until now.

Abbie smiled up at him as she walked over to the iPad on the counter and started the music, singing along.

_Ah buh buh buh buh-buh…_

_You went to school to learn girl_

_Things you never, never knew before…_

_ABC_

_It’s easy as 1,2,3_

_As simple as, do re mi_

_ABC, 123_

_Baby, you and me girl_

Abbie danced her way back to the island, “Ichabod, why don’t you and AJ work on the wet ingredients while Izzy and I tackle the dry?”

“Shall we Master Anthony?” Ichabod gestured to AJ to join him by the eggs and butter on the other side of the island. 

The last tray of cookies were just put in the oven when Abbie heard the song that brought the best parts of her childhood all the way back,“Oh, we have to dance! This was my mom’s favorite song! We always danced!”

Abbie’s smile was beaming as she danced over to AJ, bumping his hip with her own,” _My baby’s always dancin’ and it wouldn’t be a bad thing. But I don’t get no lovin’ and that’s no lie…”_

“Uncle Ichabod, you dance funny,” Izzy laughed at Ichabod’s stiff hip movements. Abbie smirked “Out of the mouths of babes…” 

Ichabod took it in stride, grabbing the giggling little girl up into his arms, “I’ll have you know, I am considered a very good dancer in some circles.” Izzy squealed as Ichabod danced holding her while he moved in a kind of simple waltz.

AJ shuffled his feet from side to side, but Abbie knew he could do better, “C’mon AJ, let’s show these two how’s it’s done.” AJ smiled and matched Abbie’s cross leg and back again steps. Ichabod was impressed and watched the two play off each other’s rhythm as Abbie’s lovely singing voice rang out,

_Don’t blame it on the sunshine_

_Don’t blame it on the moonlight_

_Don’t blame it on the good times_

_Blame it on the boogie…_

_\----------_

“Ok, you two…time for baths and bed. Who’s first?” The pizza and cookies were all gone and Abbie knew Izzy could barely keep her eyes open.

“Mom usually helps Izzy while I straighten up.” AJ answered.

“That sounds like a very good plan, Treasure.” Ichabod rose from the dining table, ready to clear the dishes, “AJ and will clean the kitchen. By the time we’re done, the shower should be free for him to use.”

AJ followed Ichabod into the kitchen, trying to get up the nerve to ask his question. “Uncle Ichabod…”

“Hold this open for me, please…” Ichabod gave AJ the garbage bag to hold open, “What is it AJ?”

“Is your friend Bram nice? I mean…I know my mom _says_ he’s nice and he seemed cool at your wedding…but is he…nice?” AJ rambled and Ichabod momentarily stopped scraping the plate into the trash bag, letting him finish before replying, “I’ve known Bram a very long time. He has many admirable qualities or else he wouldn’t be my friend…or, I suspect, your mother’s.”

Ichabod straightened, putting his hand on the young boy’s shoulder, seeing how despite Sharon’s best efforts, AJ felt a certain adult responsibility for his mother and sister. “I can say that Bram is not a threat to your mom, you or Izzy. He would never hurt you. The rest, well, perhaps you should find out for yourself? What do you say?”

“Ok…”

“Ok,” Ichabod turned to scrape out the next plate, AJ holding the bag for him.

“Alright, Lizzie Izzy…let’s read your book.” Izzy snuggled down into air mattress, making room for Abbie to sit next to her. Abbie had decided to put Izzy on the air mattress and AJ in the bed. Both kids were washed, brushed and ready for bed.

Ichabod watched from the door, making sure Abbie didn’t need any extra help before leaving. “Treasure, I have some things to take care of downstairs.” Abbie snuggled Izzy against her chest while AJ turned on his side ready to listen to the bedtime story, more to indulge a sister he loved than out of any real interest.

“Ok. This shouldn’t take too long. I’ll be down soon,” Abbie replied to Ichabod opening Izzy’s well loved copy of Clifford the Big Red Dog.

“Goodnight, Uncle Ichabod. Thanks.”

“Goodnight AJ…you’re welcome…and goodnight to you too Izzy. Sleep well.”

Abbie came down stairs after reading the book to Izzy twice and kissing both kids goodnight. She wearily made her way into the room and saw Ichabod grading papers at the dining room table. “Why aren’t you in your office babe?” She asked, kissing lightly along his neck.

“I didn’t want to miss you.” Ichabod answered but couldn’t help moving his neck to encourage more of Abbie’s kisses, “I have something to show you. Come with me.”

The first thing Abbie noticed upon entering their bedroom were the beautiful bouquet of pink roses by her side of the bed. Their fragrance filled the room.

“Oh Ichabod, they’re beautiful,” Abbie exclaimed, walking over to smell the flowers. “You didn’t have to get me flowers. We exchanged cards this morning.”

“I know.”

“And we went out for a nice lunch.” Abbie reminded him, turning away from the flowers and sitting on the bed.

“I know,” Ichabod knelt at Abbie feet and started to remove her shoes, massaging lightly after placing each shoe aside, “But it’s not just Valentine’s Day, love of my life. It has also been one year to the day that you agreed to let me be your husband.”

“Oh, Baby,” Abbie sighed out her smile, reaching over to cup the side of his face in her hand,“What did I do to deserve you?”

“Far less than I had to do to deserve you, of that I have no doubt.” Ichabod rose to his feet, reaching out his hand in invitation to Abbie. She took it and stood by the bed, “What’s going on?” 

Ichabod led Abbie into the master bathroom and she let out gasp of surprise. Almost every surface was covered with tea lights. The bathtub was filled with bubbles and a bottle in an ice bucket cooling on the wide tub deck.

“Is all this for me?” Abbie was stunned by the thoughtfulness, but not surprised. This was Ichabod after all.

“Of course, Ichabod kissed the top of his pixie princess’ head. “I’ll leave you to your bath, Treasure.” Ichabod turned to leave when he felt Abbie grab his arm,

“Stay with me.” Abbie face was just a touch uncertain and Ichabod felt his heart clinch. Didn’t she know yet?

“Always.” The love in his reply was a balm.

Abbie leaned back in the water, letting the heat and scented water melt away her tension.  Ichabod sat on a terry cloth covered stool Abbie kept next to the tub.

They were in a comfortable silence – just happy to be together. For Abbie, it was heavenly.

Ichabod poured a drink into the champagne flute, “Would you care for some sparking cider Treasure?” Abbie felt a giggle rise from her stomach that her spirit was too light filled to even want to stop, “Why thank you kind sir, I believe I would care for some.” 

Abbie took a sip, “Oh, this is really good.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Ichabod took a sip, agreeing. It was good. “I was so happy for you.”

“Umm?”

“Earlier…when we were in the kitchen. I know your memories of your mother are…complicated and not having her here for this time in your life has been challenging.”

Abbie looked at Ichabod, “It’s been harder than I thought it would be. I mean, I have friends who’ve had babies, obviously. But getting married, getting ready to be a mom – I miss mama.” Abbie sniffed back sudden tears. “I really miss her, Ichabod.”

“I know Treasure,” Ichabod reached for Abbie’s hand resting on the deck of the tub, “And I miss her for you. It was wonderful to see the good memories…to know that someday you will share the cookie making music with our children. I’m happy you have that gift to give from her to them.”

“I love you so much, Ichabod," her eyes softening with all the love in her heart for this man.

“And I love-“

“Oh!” Abbie sat up in the tub, hand suddenly at the side of her stomach.

“What?! What is it?”

“It’s the baby!”

Ichabod stood immediately, “Shall I call the doctor? I’m sure we can get someone to stay with the children if we must journey to hospital-“

“No…no…sit down. It was just a pretty hard movement.”

“Oh, I see. Well, you’ve felt the baby for weeks.” Ichabod sat back down, visibly relieved.

“Yes, on the inside, but this…” Abbie had a sudden thought, “Come here…give me your hands.” 

Ichabod quickly moved to kneel by the side of the tub, letting Abbie move his hands against her stomach under the water.

“Wait…wait,” she said. “Right there.”

Ichabod’s expression went from one of slight puzzlement to absolute awe as he felt – for the first time – their child moving within Abbie. “Ohhh, my...can you tell which limb is moving?” 

“Nah-uh. Not yet.” Abbie felt the baby press against Ichabod’s hand again, “Looks like somebody likes the sound of Daddy’s voice. I feel you…mama does too.” 

“Thank you Abbie,” Ichabod said quietly his hands still on her stomach. 

“For what, babe?” Abbie’s smile was indulgent.

“Everything.”

\----------

“Thanks so much for watching the kids.” Sharon had arrived by 10am as promised.

The kids woke up early and Ichabod had prepared blueberry pancakes with Izzy’s help while Abbie started teaching AJ how to play chess. Ichabod was not ashamed to admit that this was the Crane Family Sunday Morning of his dreams. He was sorry to see the kids go.

“They were excellent guests and we are happy to host them anytime,” Ichabod answered with a slight bow. 

“Did you have a good time?” 

“I did, Abbie. I’ll tell you about it later, ok?

Sharon gathered Izzy and AJ, moving towards the door. “What do you say to Aunt Abbie and Uncle Ichabod?”

“Thank you!” Izzy wrapped her arms around Ichabod’s thighs and AJ gave Abbie a hug. She was chagrined to realize he wasn’t that much shorter than her anymore. Sigh…short people problems. “I love you kid.” 

“I love you too, Aunt Abbie.”

Abbie shut the door behind the group and turned to Ichabod excitedly, “I’m going to get changed for our run. Be right back.” She reached up to peck lightly at Ichabod’s lips, almost skipping up the stairs to change into her running clothes. Ichabod was wearing sweatpants and a long sleeved t-shirt.  He would wear a light windbreaker for the cold…that would have to do.

Ichabod heard his phone ringing on the sofa side table and walked quickly to get it before it went to voice mail.

“Oh, morning Granddad.’

“Good Morning Ichabod, is this a good time?”

“Yes, absolutely.” Ichabod asked hesitantly, ‘How was your Valentine’s Day?”

“I suppose your father told you of my plans to propose to Evelyn?” Edward answered blandly.

“He did, but only because he wanted to make sure you were supported if needed.”

Edward sighed, “Sometimes your father forgets that I raised him, not the other way around…but nevermind.  The evening was splendid!”

“So Miss Evelyn said yes to your proposal?” Ichabod was truly surprised. He didn’t think his grandfather stood a chance of getting the older woman to agree to marriage.

“No, dear boy, of course she didn’t…not that I expected her to, all things considered.”

“Then, forgive me for saying so, but, I’m not really seeing where the splendid part comes in.”

“That’s because you’ve never served in the military and had to take a hill one precious meter at a time.  Last night, I proposed to Evelyn and as expected, she gave me a veritable laundry list of reasons why our marrying would be a colossally awful idea.”

“Very well…but still not seeing it Granddad. Apologies.”

“Not one of those reasons was the most salient…that she simply did not want to marry me.  She never uttered those words, Ichabod.” 

“Oh, I see…”

“So, I struck a bargain, moving to a more advantageous position on the battlefield.”

Ichabod smiled at the description. He almost couldn’t remember his grandfather this lively, “And that was?”

“I am moving to America for ninety days. If after that time, Evelyn decides that she does not want to marry me, I will return to England and I shall never bother her again.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“We shall be engaged. Wedding date to be determined at that time.” Edward’s reply was smug. He was damned proud of himself!

“And she agreed to this? I must say, I'm impressed. When do the ninety days begin?” Ichabod asked just as Abbie came back down the stairs, ready to go for their jog.

“I need a week to close up the house and pack for the return trip," Edward paused, listening, "I believe I heard your lovely wife in the background.”

“Yes, we are going for a jog,” Ichabod sounded so dismayed by the idea, Edward laughed. “Well, don’t let me keep you. Evelyn will be out shortly so we can go to church. Have a nice run and give that granddaughter of mine a kiss for me.”

“Will do, Granddad. I love you. Bye.”

“Treasure, Granddad says Hello,” Ichabod tucked the phone in his pocket. Abbie, of course looked resplendent in the maternity track suit. Her hair piled securely on top of her head. She took off her glasses, not wanting them in the way while she ran.

“Hello Granddad. How did it go with Miss Evelyn last night?” Abbie asked, sticking her phone in the arm pocket.

“I'll tell you as we jog…” Ichabod made another grimace following Abbie outside. 

Abbie teased, “I can always go by myself…”

“Absolutely not. Wherever you go...I go.” He nodded emphatically as he locked their front door and looked out at the clear, beautiful day.

“Deal.”


	19. Lori Mills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie confronts her past in order to have the future she deserves and Miss E confesses just what Edward Crane means to her. Thank you for reading, mistakes are my own and comments are always welcome.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to my mom and my sister - both of whom are gone now. I miss them both so much.

“Surprise!!!” Abbie walked into the small banquet room and stopped short with a blush and a sudden smile. Sharon had gotten Abbie to the hotel on the pretense of helping to chose a venue for her upcoming wedding to Bram. Over the last several months, Bram had spent every free weekend with AJ, Izzy and Sharon, getting to know them as a family, seeing where he naturally fit in. He’d even managed to impress the Kelly Brothers  _and_  Tony’s parents during their combined family Easter Dinner, a feat Sharon would have considered to be damn near impossible. Bram was her superhero. He’d proposed first to Sharon and then to the kids, needing to give them a say in what would happen next. AJ’s quiet “ok” felt to Bram like he’d sealed the most important deal of his life.   

The banquet room was filled with well wishers – Miss Evelyn and Jenny were at the front to greet her, but Abbie also saw her employees from the library, her friend Tisha Alvarez and even Vocal, the singing coach and musician – waving from her position near Miss Evelyn’s side. Abbie felt like crying to see so many of the amazing women she was blessed to have in her life. She and her baby would be well-supported.  

“I can’t believe you guys did all this just for me.” Abbie remarked quietly, turning her head, in awe of all the gender neutral decorations, the long buffet of food and the big pile of baby gifts waiting to be opened.  

Jenny gave her sister a perplexed look, “Why  _wouldn’t_  we do this for you? We all love you Abbie.” 

“I know…it’s just so much,” Abbie waved her hand in front of face, trying not to have her glasses fog up with tears, “Don’t mind me…Baby Crane is determined to make my last month of pregnancy something else. I’m blubbering.” 

“It’s alright,” Jenny hugged her sister around the eight months pregnant belly, “I’ll just tuck this moment away to remind you later about your incoherent blubbering. Win-win.” Abbie laughed – once a bratty younger sister… 

__________

Abbie, Ichabod and Jenny sat in Abbie’s car looking at Ezra Mills’ neat townhouse. It was lovely, Abbie had to admit – red brick with window boxes filled with flowers on each of the three stories and a pretty stoop. It was also obviously expensive. Houses like this didn’t come cheap in Tarrytown.  

 “Treasure, I would feel much better about this endeavor if you let me accompany you both.” 

Abbie reached across the console and took his hand, “No, babe. This is something I…we…have to do alone. I know you’re concerned for me, but these questions aren’t going away.” 

“Besides, Crane, I’ve got Abbie’s back.” Jenny declared from the back seat, opening the door, “Keep the car running. This won’t take long.”  

When Abbie hesitantly told Jenny that she wanted to contact their father, Jenny’s first reaction was a confused, “Why?” Once she'd explained, Jenny decided there was no way Abbie was going in there alone. Jenny had no desire or interest in seeing the father who abandoned them, but she’d walk through Hell for her sister and Abbie needed this. The Mills Sisters stick together, no matter what.  

“Very well,” Ichabod leaned over the console and lightly kissed Abbie’s temple, “I shall be right here, Treasure.” 

Abbie and Jenny held hands as Abbie reached out to press the doorbell. It didn’t take long before Ezra Mills opened the door with a wide smile. Memories came flooding back for Abbie…it wasn’t all bad. She remembered being held aloft on his broad shoulders. She remembered him reading to her. She remembered his smell. There was love…until there wasn’t.  

“Abigail. Jennifer. Come in…come in.” Ezra Mills moved aside to let his two eldest children into his home. “Can I get you something to drink?” 

Abbie answered for both of them, “Water would be good. Thank you.” Abbie caught Jenny’s glare. Jenny didn’t want to stay one minute more than they had to, but Abbie wanted something to help calm her nerves. A glass of water would do.  

“You can wait in the living room. I’ll be right back.” Abbie and Jenny went into the well-appointed living room full of expensive modern and antique décor. It was tasteful and comfortable. Abbie imagined it was a lovely home to raise a family. Jenny walked over to the mantle looking at the pictures of Ezra’s wife and kids. Jenny knew from her research that after he’d left them, he’d remarried a woman named Betsy Ross (some things you just can’t make up) and had three more children – all boys.  

“Funny, there’s not one picture of us.” Jenny observed bitterly.  

“Are you surprised?” Abbie drily replied.  

“No. Disgusted…but not surprised.” 

Ezra came into the room carrying a tray with three glasses of water, “Here we are!” He lowered the tray onto the glass coffee table and handed the glasses to Abbie and Jenny, before taking a seat in the armchair opposite where the sisters sat together on the sofa, side by side – united. 

“I can’t tell you girls how great it is to see you. I’ve missed you both.” 

“That’s your fault.” Jenny proclaimed baldly.  

“Yes well, things aren’t as clear cut as we’d like them to be when we’re children…” Ezra met Jenny’s accusing eyes without flinching, but shifted in his seat, explaining.  

Jenny gestured to the mantle. “Seems like things got pretty clear cut after you left us to rot in foster care.” 

“Jennifer, that’s not fair. You both know I want to be a part of your lives now. I even offered to walk your sister down the aisle…” 

“Was Mama crazy?” Abbie interrupted, putting the glass of water back on the tray, untouched.  

“What? Why would you ask that Abigail?” 

“It’s  _Abbie_. Never mind  _why_  I’m asking. Just answer the question. Did Mama have any mental illness?” Abbie placed her hands on her stomach, protective of the child she carried. That’s why she was sitting in the posh living room of the man who abandoned her, looking at photographs of grown siblings she had no desire to know – boys who had become men under the watchful eye, love and tutelage of a father who couldn’t be bothered to keep his daughters out of the system, safe from potential abuse. She wasn’t here just for herself. She was here for her child and for her future with Ichabod.  

“No, Lori didn’t suffer from any mental illness. She was perfectly sane.” 

Jenny took Abbie’s hand and squeezed, knowing how much this question had weighed on her sister.  

“Are you sure there were no signs? Schizophrenia? Bipolar-disorder? Depression? Anything?” Abbie reiterated firmly, looking at Ezra, making certain he was telling the truth.  

“No, Abbie. Nothing.” Ezra looked from one estranged daughter to the other, “What’s this about?” 

“Jenny, if you want to tell him, you can.” Abbie stood, gathering her purse and pushing her glasses up her nose, “I’m done here.” 

Ezra stood and walked around the coffee table, “But you just got here…” 

“And I got what I came for,” Abbie stuck out her hand for him to shake. Ezra took it reluctantly. “Thank you for seeing us Ezra. Goodbye,” Abbie dropped her hand, moving around him to the door, Jenny close on her heels.  

Ezra hurried to block Abbie’s path, holding his hands in front of him, “Now wait, I don’t want you to go. I’m your father. That’s my grandchild about to be born. Can’t we give our family another chance?” 

Abbie glanced at Jenny and saw the days when their mother couldn’t get out of bed, broken by her pain. She saw the birthdays Jenny and she had after Ezra left, with nothing from their father to mark the occasion, not even a card. Abbie remembered pushing food from her plate on to Jenny’s trying desperately to keep weight on her sister, even though she herself was half starving from the lack. Finally, Abbie saw the little girl Jenny had been, frightened that Stan would come back and touch her in the middle of the night and that there would be nothing Jenny could do to protect herself from the demon who slept down the hall.  

“No,” Abbie voice was heavy with the remembered pain, but resolute as she looked Ezra Mills in the eye. “There are some things that don’t deserve a second chance.” Abbie moved around him and opened the door while Jenny walked through ahead of her. She looked back at Ezra one final time. “And you’re the father of three sons. You’re not our father. You’re not our family. But don’t worry…we have a great dad. His name is August Corbin.” 

Abbie shut the door behind her, determined to never speak to Ezra Mills again.  

Abbie blinked at the April sun, tears in her eyes as she focused on her anchor. Ichabod stood by the car, arms crossed, standing sentry waiting for her return. As they crossed the street, he opened his arms and Abbie gladly went, feeling protected and loved as he enveloped her, as much as he could given her belly. Jenny nodded at Ichabod over Abbie’s shoulder and sat in the backseat to give the couple needed privacy.  

“Are you alright, Treasure?” Ichabod whispered into Abbie’s hair, unwilling to let her go even to look at her face.  

“I am now,” Abbie let go a long exhale, “Let’s go home.” Abbie briefly tightened her hold on Ichabod before releasing him. Ichabod rushed to open the door for his beloved and gave one last look to the house on his way to the driver’s door.  

He could see Ezra Mills standing by the window watching them. Ichabod felt both anger and pity. Anger because of what the man’s disregard had cost Abbie and Jenny – the sense of safety, or being wanted, protected and loved.  Pity because Ezra would never have the absolute privilege of knowing and loving his amazing daughters. “His great loss,” Ichabod whispered to himself, as he opened the car door and drove away. 

August Corbin felt his phone vibrate and excused himself from the table, “Hey, Abbie.” 

“Hi Dad.” 

August hadn’t spent years in law enforcement to not immediately suspect something was wrong, “Kiddo, what’s wrong?” 

“Jenny, Ichabod and I are heading back. We just got through with an errand.” 

“Ok…Abbie, but is something wrong with you or the baby? I can tell when something is bothering you.” 

Abbie smiled and August could sense the improvement in her mood, “No…no, we’re both fine. I just…” August heard Abbie take a deep breath and release it, “I just wanted to tell you that I love you. Jenny and I both do.” 

“I love you too, kiddo. You and your sister.” August moved the phone to his other ear, shifting on his feet, “You sure everything’s ok, Abs?” 

“Perfect, Dad. I’ll talk to you later?” 

“Ok, bye.” August disconnected the call and walked back to the table, shaking his head in bemusement. He’d get it out of Jenny later. That girl could never keep anything from August for long. Now Abbie on the other hand, she was a vault when she wanted to be.  

“Is everything ok?” Miss Evelyn asked as August slipped back into the booth.  

“Yeah, everything’s fine. That was Abbie…calling to tell me she and Jenny love me,” August shook his head, still slightly bemused.  

“That’s sweet, August.” Miss Evelyn looked down at his serving of apple pie a la mode, “I’m afraid your dessert’s a mess.” 

“It’s ok. I don’t really come here for the pie anyway,” August said, pushing the ruined dessert to the side and taking up his coffee. 

Miss Evelyn snorted into her tea, “I know…when are you going to make an honest woman of Mattie?” August had been dating Matilda Cunningham for the better part of ten years. The slender red head was feisty and challenged August in all the right ways. He loved her. She loved him. That was enough for both of them.  

“Not before you make an honest man of Ed,” August smirked, “How much longer until the engagement’s official? A month?” 

Evelyn waved off August’s question, “If I don’t send him on his way first.” 

“You won’t,” August replied smugly over the rim of his coffee mug. 

“How do  _you_ know, young man?”  

“Because one thing I know about you after thirty years, Miss E...you have no problem getting rid of anyone you don’t want around.” 

Evelyn inclined her head, forced to acknowledge that Edward Crane wasn’t the first man to ask for her hand, but he was the first one to get her this close to the altar. It only took sixty years for the right one to come along. 

“ _And_  he’s good for you. You’re not even using your cane anymore,” August paused for Mattie to refill his coffee with a soft smile and move on to the next table, “He must be some really Good Dick…” 

“August Corbin! What’d you know about Good Dick?” Miss Evelyn hiss-whispered  and swore she felt her face heat just a touch…that was new.  

“I wasn’t the Sheriff in this town for my good looks and charm. There wasn’t much I didn’t know about, including your parade of men that came and went over the years…and why.” 

“Lord, have mercy,” Evelyn exclaimed softly. The things you think you’re hiding. “Well, this thing with me and Edward Crane is _not_ love. It’s Good Dick and great companionship. That’s it.” Evelyn declared emphatically. 

“Sounds like a pretty good description of love to me, Miss E, but whatever you say. You always know more than I do.” August smiled across the table.  

Evelyn returned his smile gloating, “Like when I noticed Abbie and Jenny had moved in with that scum Stan and told you to watch him?” 

“Yup, just like that,” August shuddered slightly at the memory, “I’m so glad we were able to get the girls out of that house relatively ok.” 

“Glad I convinced you to take the girls in, too.” Evelyn said pointedly, taking another sip of her tea. 

“Yes, listening to you on that was the best decision of my life.” August agreed happily.  

__________

“Babe, I’m ready.” 

“One moment, Treasure,” Ichabod finished tightening a screw on the baby’s crib. They had decided to make the smallest of their three bedrooms the nursery. Ichabod had painted the room a sunshine yellow that Abbie chose because as she said, “It makes me happy.” All along the top of the walls near the ceiling, were letters of the alphabet painted in bright, primary colors. The room’s white painted furniture included a chest of drawers, with a changing pad on top and a comfortable upholstered rocking chair and foot stool. The last piece was the crib, which Ichabod was putting together. Sharon loaned the couple the bassinet she had saved from her kids, telling Abbie in no uncertain terms that it would be a godsend when she had to nurse at 2am. 

“There,” Ichabod said putting down the screwdriver for the night, “That will do for the moment.” He stood and faced Abbie, dressed for sleep in one of his old t-shirts. It stretched over her belly and Ichabod couldn’t help noticing all the leg revealed. Abbie was obviously heavily pregnant and even had a waddle that Ichabod secretly found adorable, none of which stopped him from wanting her desperately every day.   

“So, what shall we read to Baby Crane tonight?” Ichabod asked as Abbie settled on the bed between his legs, her back against his chest, a light blanket covering them both. Every since they first felt the baby together and realized Baby Crane liked the sound of Ichabod’s voice, they’d been reading children’s stories aloud every night before bed. Sometimes, like tonight, Abbie was tired and wanted to go to sleep early, but Ichabod never failed to stop whatever he was doing to settle into bed with Abbie and read to their baby.  

“Mmm, I think the Cat in the Hat.” 

“Very well,” Ichabod picked out the book from the growing pile on his bedside table, ready to read.  

Ichabod suddenly sensed the change in his wife’s demeanor and waited. Abbie would tell him what was on her mind. He had learned over the almost two years of their relationship...all he had to do was be still and let her, “I realized something today, going to see Ezra.” 

“What is that Treasure?” Ichabod put the book to the side and wrapped his arms around Abbie’s belly, stroking lightly. Soothing. 

“I don’t ever remember feeling like mama didn’t love us. Some days it was hard…really hard...she could barely get out of bed…and some days she didn’t make it. But she made sure we knew she loved us and that she  _was_  trying. I know she did the best she could,” Abbie choked out her next words, “She was a good mama.”  

Ichabod kissed Abbie’s cheek softly, and reached over to wipe away the tears she didn’t even realize she was shedding, “And you will be an amazing mother as well. I know our child we always feel your love because you have  _so much_  love to give, Abbie. I am the blessed beneficiary of it every day.” 

Abbie blinked back more tears, nodded her thanks softly and reached over to grab the book, handing it to Ichabod, “Ready, Mr. Crane?” 

“Ready, Mrs. Crane.” 


	20. Meet Baby Crane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just what the title says --it's time! Baby Crane enters the world. Mistakes are my own and comments are as always welcome. Enjoy!

 

“Oh my God. This is amazing!”

Ichabod came out of his office area to see what had his wife so excited. Abbie stood by the open front door, mail in hand, the late spring breeze gently blowing her red, boat neck, short sleeved maternity top against her back and ruffling her hair. She was reading a card, head down as she scanned the words. 

“What is it Abbie?” Ichabod inquired, observing the bright smile that now graced her lovely face and if he were being honest with himself, admiring the legs that were revealed by her white shorts and flat sandals.

“A patron had two spare tickets to an upcoming Mets home game. He dropped them off at the library for me, even though it’s short notice, hoping I can use them.”

Abbie lightly hugged him and giggled, “This is so cool!”

Ichabod didn’t want to disappoint her, but he felt he must give voice to his doubts, hesitant as he was, “Abbie…you’re on maternity leave.”

“Uh-huh?” She looked up, eyebrow raised in question above her glasses.

“We are almost 38 weeks pregnant.” He tried to reason with his Treasure calmly even as he felt his pulse start to race.

“Uh-huh?” Abbie replied, pushing her glasses up her nose.

Ichabod looked at the date on the tickets, visibly appalled, “This game is one week from our due date!”

“Uh-huh?” Her tone begged the point.

“Abbie!” Ichabod was exacerbated, hands flailing wildly at his side, “Please stop replying ‘uh-huh’ to everything I say on this matter. Be serious… _you cannot go to this game!”_

Abbie’s head titled to the side as her eyes narrowed sharply and Ichabod knew instantly he’d lost the argument. He’d tipped his hand in telling Abbie what she _couldn’t_ do. Ichabod kicked himself – he should have known better. If he hadn’t been so strident, he knew, Abbie might have talked _herself_ out of going. Now he was stuck – negotiating the terms of surrender. 

Ichabod tried again with a small sigh, his hands on his hips, “Treasure, what I mean is…it probably wouldn’t be advisable to attend the game given how close we are to the due date.” His smile was almost a grimace and didn’t quite reach his eyes, but he was trying his best to pull it off.  

Abbie smiled with a just a slight menace at her clueless, but incredibly caring husband. “Ichabod, what do you know about me?”

Ichabod was instantly suspicious and the crinkling of his forehead telegraphed his doubt, “Is this a trick question?”

“No” Abbie said drily as she reached behind her and closed the door.

“Well, you are brilliant,” he answered, drawing up to his full height and standing with his hands behind his back.

“And?” Abbie inquired, but couldn’t stop the slight blush at the compliment.

“And incredibly stubborn when you want to be,” he continued without a hint of irony.

“I’ll give you that one,” Abbie shrugged. Truth was truth. “And?” 

“You love fiercely with your entire being.” He replied sincerely, softening but still confused about where all this was going.

Abbie reached up to cradle his bearded cheek with one hand, the tickets held in the other, “That’s right, babe. And I love our child more than my own life, so why would you think I’d risk having to give birth on the Van Wyck Expressway?”

Abbie patted his cheek slightly and stepped around Ichabod, picking up her cell phone from the side table to make a call. 

“Hey Joe,” she said by way of greeting her brother. “I’m good. Guess what? I have two tickets to a Mets home game. Behind home plate…a library patron gifted them to me…I know! Amazing right?!…The game is a week out from my due date so do you want them? Maybe you and your Little Brother Timmy can go? Does he like baseball? Yeah?  Cool…I can bring them when we have lunch next week in town. Great Joe, see you then. Love you. Bye.” Abbie disconnected the call and turned to see Ichabod, standing exactly where she’d left him. 

“Why did you let me prattle on if you knew you weren’t attending the game?” Ichabod asked, arms crossed with consternation. But seeing Abbie’s smirk, he realized, to his chagrin that he’d never _asked_ if she intended to go to the game. He saw her enthusiasm for the tickets and assumed the worst.

“You were so cute trying not to have a stroke, I couldn’t resist messing with you a little,” Abbie’s laugh was more wicked cackle than playful giggle and Ichabod silently vowed he would have his revenge…someday...as he shook his head and bent down to kiss away her smile.

__________

“Wow, you’ve really dropped.”

“Thanks…” Abbie replied sarcastically sitting carefully in the seat of the outdoor café where Joe was waiting for her. “And don’t be surprised if I have to go to the bathroom fifteen times while we’re here. This baby is pressing on my bladder like it’s a doorbell.” Abbie shifted and used her hand to move what she suspected was the baby’s foot, trying to get more comfortable as she sat at the table. _Hopeless_.

“I don’t think you’re going to make it to your due date,” Joe observed. Since leaving the Marines seven months earlier and settling in nearby White Plains, Joe had leveraged his military training and was now working as a paramedic.

Abbie looked across the table at her younger brother, his blue eyes alight in the sunshine. Abbie thought again how much he looked like August, right down to the innate wisdom and goodness that radiated from him. August made the decision to take in her and Jenny, but Abbie always acknowledged that Joe never made the sisters feel bad about needing a home or expressed any jealousy about sharing his father with two strangers he would eventually view as simply his sisters.

“You know, at this point, I don’t care.” Abbie deadpanned, pulling a chuckle from Joe.  She shifted again, feeling the tell-tale pressure on her bladder. The waitress came by to take their order. Joe wanted the hamburger and fries. Abbie asked for the salad with grilled chicken and quickly made her escape to the restroom.

“So, Baby Crane is overstaying the welcome, huh?” Joe asked with a grin upon her waddling return to the table.  

“You have _no_ idea. This last week in particular has been…whew!” Abbie shook her head, “I don’t even know what to call it, between the discomfort, bloating and Braxton-Hicks contractions.

“Abbie, you’re tiny. At this point there’s no more space for the baby to take up in there,” Joe stated, pointing at Abbie’s stomach. “You ready?”

“I think so…I hope so,” Abbie leaned across the table as best she could, all things considered. Joe had always been so easy to talk to – he didn’t judge. “This past week has been really rough. Everything hurts. The baby is beating me up from the inside. Am I bad for just wanting to get it over with?”

“No,” Joe gave Abbie a sidelong glance, “And it doesn’t mean you’re going to be a bad mom for thinking it either.” 

“I know that…this last week has just got me thinking. I’m going to meet this person really soon. A person that we made and I protected and nourished with my body…I just want to do right by the baby. He or she deserves it, you know?” Abbie reached behind, massaging her back.

“You ok?” Joe asked, concerned. Abbie seemed to get more uncomfortable in the twenty minutes or so they’d been talking and he saw she was lightly sweating.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just these Braxton-Hicks contractions are really powerful and my back hurts.” Abbie shifted again, trying in vain to get comfortable sitting at the table.

Joe looked down at his watch, “Tell me when the next one starts, ok?”

“Joe….” Abbie started, smiling through the pain trying to reassure her brother.

“Just do it, Abbie. Trust me.” He reiterated, not looking up from his watch.

Joe let Abbie go through three cycles of contractions before concluding, “I think you’re in labor. Let’s get you to the hospital. We’ll call Crane on the way.” Joe stood up and reached in his back pocket for his wallet, pulling out bills.

“What? I…” Abbie had to stop speaking as a powerful contraction gripped her and she felt a distinct tug low on her abdomen. Abbie breathed through the growing discomfort, just as she had learned at the Lamaze classes, “Ichabod’s in Manhattan today. A…A meeting at the Historical Society.” 

“First things first. Let’s get you to the hospital,” Joe took Abbie by the elbow leading her to his car after leaving more than enough money to cover their aborted late afternoon lunch.

_____

“My wife,” Ichabod abruptly asked the nearest nurse he could find, “My wife, where is she?”

Before Zoe Corinth could ask the obvious question, Ichabod saw Joe coming down the hallway and abandoned the young, pretty brunette without a backwards glance.

“Joe! Where is Abbie?” Ichabod asked – a bit frantic to Joe’s ears, “I abandoned my meeting and drove here as quickly as possible. Damnable rush hour traffic. The Saw Mill was at a veritable standstill. I left as soon as you called…is Abbie alright?”

Joe lightly gripped Crane’s shoulders to steady him. Abbie would need solid support, not a pile of goo, “She’s in active labor and has had an epidural, but is refusing to really start pushing without you, so…um…let’s talk later. Ok?” Joe firmly guided Ichabod in the direction he needed to go and he rounded the corner to Abbie’s room.

“Ichabod!” Abbie was laying on the bed, prepped for delivery and reached out to him with both hands and he quickly moved to take them, kissing her palms several times, oblivious to the others in the room.  To Ichabod’s eyes, Abbie already seemed very tired, but behind the fatigue, he saw the love and determination that would bring their child into the world. “ _God wounds,”_ he thought not for the first time, _“She is so beautiful.”_

Dr. Chen strode into the room behind Ichabod, the very definition of pint-sized efficiency herself as she ducked under the sheet to check Abbie’s dilation. _Ready to rock._  “Good to see you, Ichabod. I think your wife was prepared to hold her legs together until you got here,” Elise’s smile was laced with patience and relief. “Let’s get you suited up.” Ichabod turned to the nurse to quickly help him.

“Abbie,” Dr. Chen observed Abbie’s pained expression with a clinician’s detachment but with some empathy. She wouldn’t have to wanted to give birth without her husband either, “We have to do this now. Baby Crane is anxious to meet you and Ichabod. With the next contraction, I need you to really push, ok?”

Abbie looked to her side and saw Ichabod as he settled, leaning over on the bed, kissing her forehead and into her hair. On his face was a look of pure adoration…mixed in with pride, faith and hope. He believed in her…in them…in what they could accomplish together as soulmates. Abbie felt the next contraction coming and breathed into it. She was ready.

_____

“So, Treasure, what shall we call her?”

Abbie watched Ichabod admire their daughter while he cradled her in his arms... walking back and forth in their hospital room. Their miracle had arrived an hour after he did and Abbie knew when Dr. Chen placed her gently across Abbie’s chest to calm the seconds old infant that her daughter would connect Abbie to both her future and her past. Her tears were happiness for her daughter’s safe birth and sadness that her own mother was not alive to meet her first grandchild.

Ichabod didn’t attempt to stop his own tears at the sight of his daughter, newly born, laying across Abbie for warmth and the reassurance of her heartbeat, a sound that been a source of comfort inside the womb. The baby had been quickly examined, cleaned, bundled and placed back in Abbie arms following the expulsion of the placenta and freshening up for Abbie. Their daughter was obviously hungry and seeing her latch on to Abbie’s breast shifted something in Ichabod’s soul, awakening a depth of love he didn’t think himself capable of feeling. The three slept in the same room that night and just like always, thanks to Joe bringing their hospital bag, Ichabod read a bedtime story to their child.

Cradling her the next afternoon, Ichabod thought she was perfect…with wispy, curly hair and eyes that looked to him to be a watery blue/green. He suspected both her both her pale skin and eyes would darken over time. But he happily knew that the plumb, full lips she’d obviously inherited from her mother were unlikely to change. She also had Abbie’s eyes – round pools that could melt a heart. Ichabod was in awe. He was eternally grateful. He now had two women in his life he would gladly die to protect.

“I don’t know. I mean we said we’d wait until we met the baby to decide on a name.”  Abbie smiled with a love and gentleness that robbed Ichabod of breath, “What’s your mother’s middle name again?”

“Elizabeth,” Ichabod answered swaying slightly to encourage the baby to go back to sleep. She would need to eat soon enough and Ichabod was determined that Abbie would get some rest before having to feed their daughter again. “What was your mother’s middle name?”

Abbie chuckled with self-deprecation, “Grace.” 

“Hmmmm…Elizabeth Grace….do you like that Little Bit?” Ichabod asked the bundle of warmth in his arms.

“Little Bit?” Abbie asked with a smile.

Ichabod shrugged with a slight blush, “Just came to me.”

“No, I like it. It’s sweet. Elizabeth Grace…or ‘Little Bit’ to her Daddy.”

“As an added benefit, Elizabeth was also the name of my maternal great-grandmother – the one whose ring I presented with my marriage proposal,” Abbie hadn’t been able to wear her engagement ring for the last two months of the pregnancy, but she was looking forward to doing so again and smiled at the reminder, “And what shall her mummy call Elizabeth Grace as a nickname?”

Abbie thought for a moment, looking at her daughter…thinking of the name they’d chosen, “Lily…I carried them in my bouquet at our wedding, remember?”

“Elizabeth Grace. Lily for short?” Ichabod smiled across the room at Abbie, “Perfect.”

“Oh, let me see my grandchild!” Ichabod turned at the sound of his mother’s voice. Helena, Charles, August, Edward and Evelyn entered the room together. Abbie knew hospital rules normally wouldn’t allow this many people to visit at once, but suspected Miss Evelyn had something to do with the exception. There weren’t many people in the town of Sleepy Hollow she couldn’t sway to her way of thinking.

August kissed Abbie’s forehead while Ichabod transferred Lily to his mother’s arms after she insisted on washing her hands, saying they’d come straight from the airport.

“Hey, kiddo. How are you feeling?”

“Ok. Dad. Tired, but ok.”

"When do you go home?” August gently smoothed down Abbie’s hair under her scarf.

“Tomorrow, if everything works out,” she answered, leaning into his touch with a contented sigh.

“Jenny and Joe are downstairs. There are limits to what even someone as persuasive as Miss E can do.” August informed Abbie with a knowing smile.

“I figured.” Abbie huffed out a half smirk.

“Ichabod, she is simply beautiful,” Edward Crane said looking at his first great-grandchild resting comfortably in Helena’s arms. “What shall she be called?”

“Elizabeth Grace,” Ichabod answered, lightly touching Lily’s cheek with the back of his index finger, “After her grandmothers.” He didn’t miss his mum’s eyes well up at hearing that her grandchild was named after her.

“That’s lovely, Ichabod. Thank you.” Helena looked over at Charles, catching his happy smile.

Miss Evelyn was sitting patiently waiting to hold the baby. Helena smoothly transferred her to Evelyn’s sure arms. Abbie felt her chest swell and perhaps for the first time she could consciously recall, the ancestors speaking to her heart.

“Miss Evelyn…Elizabeth Grace’s nickname is Lily.”

“Oh, that’s beautiful Baby Girl,” Evelyn smiled down at the sweet faced baby and even sniffed her sweet, baby smell slightly. Miss Evelyn never wanted to have babies, but she’d loved them for as long as she could remember and she knew she’d love this one most of all.

Abbie continued softly, “I know she’s not your great-granddaughter, but it _feels_ like she is. Would you…would you be willing to give her a blessing?”

Evelyn looked across the room, meeting Abbie’s eyes, “It would be my honor, Abbie.” Evelyn looked at the assembled group, “Form a circle as best we can…make sure Abbie is in it.” Helena joined hands with Charles and placed her left hand on Miss Evelyn’s shoulder looking over her head as Edward placed his right hand on Miss Evelyn’s other shoulder and joined hands with August. Finally, August took Abbie’s right hand as Ichabod gently took her left in his. He completed the circle by joining hands with his father. Miss Evelyn took a breath to connect with God before bowing her head to speak,

“Elizabeth Grace Crane...Lily…may you grow to be as strong-willed as your mother and as kind as your father. May the world always see you as the Child of God you are...and if there are times when it doesn’t…may you always be carried forward by the unwavering love and support this family has for you...now and forever…in Jesus’ name, Amen.”

“Amen.” Abbie repeated with the others, looking at her family’s elders through thankful tears.

_____

“Ichabod, babe, I think we can drive a little faster.” Ichabod was driving his family home from hospital. Extremely precious cargo as far as he was concerned. So sod it if anyone was upset about him driving ten miles per hour, including his family that followed behind in a sort of caravan.  He didn’t care. “I need to make sure you and Little Bit are safe.”

“We are safe. I promise,” Abbie was sitting in the back seat next to Lily, who thankfully was sleeping, oblivious to her father’s neurosis.

“Abbie, there are some things that are non-negotiable. This is one of them.” Ichabod glanced at Abbie through the rear view mirror, catching and holding her gaze.

“Okay, babe. Okay.” Abbie settled back in the seat and closed her eyes to rest, content to let Ichabod be Ichabod. 

As Ichabod parked the car in the driveway, they saw Jenny, Joe, August, Sharon, Bram and the kids standing on their porch. Joe and Jenny spent time with Lily the previous night at the hospital and both agreed in no uncertain terms that they were in love with their niece. Of course Jenny couldn’t resist one salient dig, “See, I told you were having a girl. And don’t get it twisted, she may be named Crane, but she’ll be a Mills woman, through and through.” Fortunately, this was one of the few times Jenny was being a brat where Abbie had no desire to throw something at her, silently agreeing with her prediction.

Edward parked his car in the front of the house and Miss Evelyn, Helena and Charles piled out, greeting the others on the porch.

“Welcome Home Elizabeth Grace!” Sharon helped Izzy and AJ hold up the colorful handmade signs as the group mounted the stairs, Ichabod carrying Lily in her car seat, the thin baby blanket covering it, protecting her from the sun. 

Sharon hugged Abbie, planting a kiss her her cheek, “We’re not going to stay. We just wanted to welcome Lily home. Bram’s taking us all out to lunch while you three get settled.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that…”

“I learned this from my mother. Those first few moments as a family, in your own home? You don’t get those back, Abbie. Enjoy them. We left some food in the fridge for you. We’ll be back in a few hours to help where you need us.” Sharon saw the look on Abbie’s face and stopped her next thought, “And don’t worry about offending anybody. I’ve already cleared it with Helena, Miss Evelyn and Jenny. The men will go where we tell them.” Sharon smiled at Abbie with a wink. Bram patted Crane on the back, wishing him well as the group made their way back to their various cars to go to the lunch Sharon had planned. 

Abbie walked through the door ahead of Ichabod. She watched as he gently removed the still sleeping baby from her car seat and handed her to Abbie where she sat on the sofa. Ichabod sat beside her, careful not to jostle the baby into waking up.

“We are home,” Abbie tucked Lily against her breast, breathing in sync with her daughter as she gazed down at the peacefully sleeping infant.

Ichabod placed his forehead against Abbie’s sharing breath and joining her in watching their little girl sleep in Abbie’s arms. “Abbie, Treasure, wherever you are _is_ home – now more than ever.”

Abbie smiled with gentle reproach, “That’s what I said, Baby. _We_ are home.”

Ichabod’s kiss was gentle and in complete agreement with his wife.


	21. A. Mills Librarian - Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End. Thank you to everyone who read this story, gave kudos and commented. As always, mistakes are my own and comments are welcome.

“Do you, Evelyn Agnes, take Edward Alastair to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part.”

“I do,” Evelyn answered Reverend Patterson with conviction. She might have come to the altar kicking and screaming but she wouldn’t regret letting Edward Crane win her heart. Evelyn Johnson planned to soak up all a life with this man had to offer her - Good Dick, great companionship and all.

“By the power vested in me by the State of New York, I now pronounce you Man and Wife! You may kiss the bride.”

Edward looked at Evelyn – _his wife_ – with a love that wasn’t young or new or fresh, but nevertheless was all their own. He would love Olivia Crane for the rest of his life and at the same time, he willingly gave his heart over to Evelyn’s safe keeping. He knew that for however long they both had left, she would make their life and love beautiful.

_____

“Treasure, we’re going to take Little Bit for a walk. Would you care to join us?”

Ichabod found Abbie sitting in their backyard, a glass of iced tea by her side. The Es (as the family had taken to calling the couple for ease sake) departed yesterday on their honeymoon to Paris. Ichabod’s parents were staying in the States for the rest of July – with plans to rent a car and drive cross country, with stops along the way. Ichabod sincerely hoped they thoroughly enjoyed themselves.

But today, they were putting Lily in her stroller and walking to a local park to get some air. Ichabod noticed that Abbie had been contemplative the last week or so, but he didn’t press, knowing she would tell him when she was ready. Loving Abigail Mills Crane had taught him patience.

“No, babe, you guys go ahead,” Abbie replied somewhat distractedly.

“Abbie, is everything alright?” Ichabod asked coming to squat in front of where she sat.

Abbie leaned over and kissed her dear, sweet, occasionally crazy soulmate. “Yes, everything’s fine. I promise. Do you have everything you need for Lily?”

Ichabod kissed her quickly again before standing, “Very well, Treasure. Yes, we are well stocked with everything we will need for our walk to the park. We shouldn’t be gone long.”

“Ok, babe. I love you.” Abbie replied touching Ichabod’s hand softly. He raised her delicate hand to his lips, kissing it gently, “And I love you.”

Abbie heard the door close behind the foursome and got up from the chair, taking her empty glass to the sink. As she looked around her house, she saw all the signs of her new life – Lily’s toys in the living room corner…Ichabod’s shoes by the door. Even for herself, seeing the pamphlet for a convention for Head Librarians she planned to attend later this year. Life has changed dramatically in the almost two years since she introduced herself to Ichabod Crane at the library and while she couldn’t have predicted it, she wouldn’t change a thing. Abbie smiled to herself as she went to Ichabod’s office on the sun porch and sat at his desk, looking over the back yard…coming to her decision.

She took the journal down from small bookshelf Ichabod had mounted over the desk, opened it to the first blank page and began,

_My name is Grace Abigail Mills Crane. I am a direct descendant of Grace Dixon through my mother Lori Grace Roberts Mills._ _I am honored to add my experiences to Grace Dixon’s and it is my sincere hope that some day my daughter, Elizabeth Grace Crane, will add her experiences to my own._

_-The End -_


End file.
